A Place In This World
by laughXoutXloud
Summary: Gabi's new. She's awkward, misses her ex and longs for him. Once she fits in East High, she is more comfortable. But is she ready for a relationship? Cause there's a certain basketball star who can't stop thinking about her. And he knows her well. TxG.
1. Moving

**A/N: So guess what. I decided to stray away from Zanessa and try a Troyella (a once hated pairing). I know. What a drastic change. Unbelievable, ain't it? **

**I'm trying something new here, so we'll just have to see how it works. It's going to be different from what you have read, but in a good way. I'm trying to step it up... Anyway... **

**Special thanks to zacvanessaxxx for the making of this story! Thanks so much for your input!! You know how much I love constructive critisism. ;) I live for it. **

**Listen. I know many readers hate flashbacks with all their life and I know they especially hate ones without the pairing they like, but trust me, this one is CRUCIAL and will give you lots of...er, clues...later on in the story. **

**Disclaimer: I do not own Disney or any of these characters except the Wheatons. So far, at least. **

* * *

I kicked the suitcase I final time, sighing as I sunk down onto my bed.

I took a good look at the room. My bedroom. Now, my ex-bedroom. It looked bare, the walls stripped of their posters and pictures, and the built-in shelves crammed with emptiness.

Moving.

I was moving.

If a parent told their kid right now that they were moving, they'd go ballistic and strike. Myself, I just trek up to my room and start packing. I move a lot. It's part of my mother's job. She doesn't mind moving around. I secretly think she likes it. I don't mind either, then again I'm used to it.

But this time it's different. Because this time, we're not moving because of my mother's job. We're moving because she's getting married.

Yes. The grand and cheesy 'I do'. To some guy…some guy named Phillip Wheaton. I've met him on an account of three times. When I was spending the summer with my grandmother in Mexico, he just barged in and took hold of my mother's heart. And her life. It's like everything she does now is for Mr. Wheaton. The only thing that ever comes from her mouth is "It's for Phillip."

You should see this guy. He looks like he's come out of preppy central. He always wears polos from Ralph Lauren or J. Crew with the sleeves of a matching sweater tied around his neck. And God forbid he doesn't wear khakis. Barf.

I don't understand what my mom sees in this guy. But whatever it is has sure hit her hard. Within two months, they were, as I quote from my mother, "completely in love." And here we are, a week later, moving because of their engagement.

I didn't know how to react. The bomb dropped right in front of me, but I didn't think it would explode. And boom. It did.

_Albuquerque. _Texas, sure. But New Mexico? I'd never so much as driven through the place. For God sakes, I lived in San Diego. I was not meant to live in the desert. I was meant for the beach. But did I say this to anyone? No. I couldn't destroy my mother's happiness. I just couldn't. She'd been such a wreck, ever since my father left. And now finally, she was happy again. Even if it were with Mr. Preppy.

"Ella?"

I switched out of my reverie, jumping up and walking over to the door.

"Yeah, Mom?" I called back.

"We're leaving now, sweetie. Come bring that last suitcase down."

I obeyed, lugging the suitcase down the steps and dragging it to the front door, where all of our other luggage stood. I gazed around a last time, the impact of the furniture-less rooms coming down to me as the realization really set. This was it. This was final.

I was moving. To New Mexico. My mother was getting married. To Mr. Preppy. And I would have to some how get along with his children. His four children, whom I'd never met, but I knew were stuck-up preppy kids too.

I choked, blinking back the tears. There were so many memories made in this house…so many memories I'd never forget. It felt like now that I was leaving this residence, I was leaving the memories. But I knew it wasn't true. Those memories were safe in my heart, and for eternity.

_"Gabi…" he managed a mesmerized whisper, tucking a curl of my hair behind my ear gently. His thumb trailed up and down the side of my face, making my skin tingle. I stared into his eyes, the deep enchanting ones I loved so much. I knew I would never grow tired of them._

_"Yeah?" I whispered tentatively, gazing up at him, my eyes overflowing with passion. I slowly drew circles on his leg, loving how he shivered beside me. He pulled me closer to him, dropping a chaste kiss on my shoulder but not breaking our intense eye contact. I cherised the feeling of his skin rubbing against mine, our bodies so close that his heat radiated onto me. _

_"You're so beautiful," he breathed finally, shaking his head slightly and stroking my hair, gaping at me in awe. His eyes read of such love and care at the moment that it made me liquefy. I stared back up at him, memorizing the way his long hair fell over his eyes, and how his eyes glimmered so spectacularly. His eyes suddenly brimmed with tears, and he pressed the back of my head to his chest, threading his fingers through my hair and rubbing my back with his free hand. I bit my lip, as I knew he'd only done this so quickly because he didn't want me to see him crying. _

_"Baby?" I gave a muffled whisper, breathing in his scent as I inhaled deeply._

_"Yeah?" he croaked, his voice stretching itself to sound innocent and clueless. _

_"Are you…okay?" _

_He lowered his head, burying it in my neck and pushing my body even closer to his, wrapping his arms around me and ensuring no space was left between us. "You know I love you…right?" I nodded, trying to hide my whimper as I hid my face further in his chest. I felt tears sting my eyes, and I closed them as I felt his hand continue to rub my back. _

_"Don't go, Hunter," I whispered. _

_I knew where this was headed. But I couldn't let it go that way. I couldn't. This was where I felt most at home. Where I finally felt safe and protected. He made me feel so special, like I was the only thing that mattered in the entire world. Those hours I had spent with him, crying and grieving when my father had left…the way we bonded, how we let each other in…it gave me chills. And I wasn't letting that go. That was too sacred to be let go. It wasn't everyday you found someone you loved as much as we loved each other._

_"You know I'll love you always…r-right?" And now he burst into tears, hugging me so close to him that I could barely breathe. "Forever." He shook around me, engulfing me completely and squeezing my body, just needing to feel me there. _

_I was numb. This wasn't happening. He couldn't leave me. Not like this. My eyes went glossy with fiery hot tears, and I couldn't stop them from spilling down, drenching his shirt. Soon I was trembling, cradled against him in his arms. I bunched up the material of his shirt as hard as I could, as if it could stop us from breaking apart. _

_"W-Why?" I whimpered, my voice cracking as I faltered into convulsing sobs again. I just felt him shake his head vigorously, heaving a giant pitiful sob before squishing me close to him once more. He was never this vulnerable like this. Never. But that wasn't what signaled to me that this was major. I weaved my fingers through his gorgeous hair, unable to help thinking that this could be the last time. "I love you," I whispered with all the love in my heart, all that I could ever give to him. His hand crept up my shirt and began rubbing patterns on my bare back, stalling his answer as he bit his lip and sucked in his quivering breath before letting it out with his response._

_"You know I love you, Gabriella," he whispered gravely into my ear, his hot breath tickling me and making my stomach flip reflexively. I felt his lips attach to my neck, sucking, warm and wet, and I cried even more, unable to cease, knowing for sure that this time was the last time I'd ever get to feel his lips against my neck like this. "Goddamn it Gabi," he choked hoarsely, almost unable to go on through his own constant tears. Just hearing his helpless voice; so heavy and discouraged, so sure that our forever was now never; made my heart drop to the endless black pit that now felt like my stomach. _

_I desperately gasped for air through my cries, feeling the lugubrious air cascade around us in one heavy curtain, shielding us from the rest of the world and encasing us in my room, on my bed. Everything looked gray. There was no hope. None at all. "I love you," he whispered hopelessly, yet meaning every single word. He squeezed me tight as I erupted into new sobs, the three words he had just said increasing the pain to unbearable. I could just feel the sharp daggers, stabbing at my heart endlessly. So slowly the blood drained, yet so quickly I felt nearer to the end. _

_"You can't give up on this," I whispered in terminal despair, my voice strained to keep in the tears, "on us." He only hugged my tiny frame to his harder, this time squeezing me so hard I thought I felt a rib snap. _

_"I'm not giving up on us," he trembled powerlessly. He was hesitant before he replied unwillingly, yet truth strung with every word, "The world is." At this, I knew I was over. The ball of light had now disappeared, the atmosphere had now dimmed, and I was enclosed in a galaxy of darkness. I clawed at him, trying to hold on to what left of him I had. I couldn't stand the torture—this was too much, too much for me to handle…_

_"When do you leave?" I whispered despondently, barely audible, and grasping his waist for my dear life as he stroked my hair. His attempts were barely enough to soothe me. _

_"You know I'll never leave you, baby," he breathed, his voice so weak. "You know I'll always be with you, wherever you go." I clutched him tighter, wrapping my legs around him, surged by the sudden need to be as close to him as possible. _

_"Please don't go," I whimpered again in the pitch black that was my room that midnight. "You're my Hunter…" I gasped, gripping his shirt, squeezing my fist so tightly that my knuckles turned white. He gave a last pathetic sob before sighing into my hair, gently untangling my small fingers from his shirt and intertwining them with his between us. _

_"And you're my Gabi," he whispered in such a soft caring voice that I completely melted in his arms, tightening my legs around his waist as I continued to cry so disheartenedly, completely drowning from the melancholy surrounding me. I had no defense now. And I was scared. I was weak. I was so vulnerable, so easy to tear down without my strength. And my strength was him. I was nothing now…nothing at all…I was just a waste of space. I didn't mean anything…I didn't mean a fuck…_

_I continued to weep in his arms, never wanting to leave him. I tried to keep my eyes open for as long as possible, wanting to savor every moment. I guess I fell asleep, for when I reopened my eyes, to my ultimate horror, he was gone. _

_My worst nightmare had come true. _

I stared at my scarred wrist, silently reminiscing the most horrific and dreadful night of my life. I closed my eyes momentarily, painfully remembering the long lonely days I had gone through, and was still enduring. I let my eyes water and my lips tremble as I revived the torture I had suffered and still was. I would never be able to get out of this dark hole. I was better than before, but never would I ever be the same again.

I sighed, hoisting my last suitcase up and trampling down the wooden steps to the porch.

I heard my mother stumbling down the rickety stairs, and I quickly brushed my eyes with the back of my sleeve. She didn't notice as she swung open the door, hauling one blue suitcase and trying to get it into the back of the car.

When I noticed something else. That car wasn't ours. That had to mean that—

"Phil! Can you give me a hand?"

"Of course, Maria! Here, go sit in the car. I'll load this for you."

I internally gagged as he pecked my mother on the cheek, pushing the suitcase into the trunk of the car. It took him a full minute to notice me waiting awkwardly by the door of the house.

"Gabriella!" he bellowed with a smile, his painfully pearly teeth blinding my eyes in the sun. He ran a hand through his short reddish gold hair, "Come out here."

I gulped, nodding and quickly making my way over to him.

"Hey, how're you Gabs?"

I did _not _want him to call me that. _No_. That was off limits.

"Fine," I swallowed gutturally, lacing my fingers together in nervousness. Mr. Wheaton squinted his eyes in the sunlight, and I could tell he was bracing himself through the awkwardness. He bit his lip, nodding slowly before putting on his sunglasses, which shaded his green eyes.

I silently got in the car, resting my head on the window as I watched Preppy try his best to manage our luggage. He really needed a workout. It seemed like hours before the car finally revved to a start.

"Oh Phil, you _really _didn't have to! We could've driven ourselves."

"Maria, stop! I couldn't've let you do that, I really couldn't've. The ride's a good twelve hours. I can't let you drive that yourself!"

"I wouldn't! Ella drives too."

"Ah, does she? But she's only fifteen!"

I narrowed my eyes at him from the backseat but neither of them noticed.

"No, she's seventeen, soon to be eighteen in just a few months."

I rolled my eyes, trying to fight the dry lump in my throat. I didn't know what it was; why I was acting this way. But I was, and I couldn't control it. I had never felt like this before. I felt like I was going to explode. With what exactly, I wasn't sure. It was just this huge jumbo mess of jealousy, anger, and annoyance.

Mr. Preppy and his fiancé blabbered on flirtatiously like that, and I couldn't stop the tears that sprung to my eyes. I still remembered when my father and my mother were so in love. Before the trouble started. Before he left us. How her eyes sparkled when he looked at her, how is voice was so soft when he spoke to her. I saw the same thing in Mr. Preppy and his fiancé, but it still didn't feel the same. It felt so weird. So misplaced and incompatible. I wanted to kick Wheaton out and substitute him with my father right away. But I knew I never could. My father was well gone now.

The twelve hours couldn't have lasted longer. I wanted to pinch Preppy every time he made my mother laugh, punch him in the eye every time he kissed her, and knock him out completely every time he told her he loved her. It was disgusting. Absolutely gross and mortifying. I couldn't believe my own mother was acting like this in front of me. I spent most of the time staring out the window, admiring the scenery and thinking, mostly about Him.

Yes, Him. The boy I never went a minute with without thinking about. The boy who had stolen my heart. The boy who had left me, my heart still embraced with His. The boy who left me like this, lonely and feeling forgotten, and so drenched with sorrow and languish.

My head was spinning around and around with thoughts of Him. His image flooded my mind, swarming the gag-worthy scene around me. He was all I could think about. And I couldn't stop. Even if I'd never see Him again.

He was my Hunter. _How could He do this to me?_ I asked myself time and time again, only to result with no answer and tears running down my face.

I tried not to think about it the entire ride, but it was impossible.

I was practically puking in the backseat as I watched the two adults act like lovesick teenagers. And the way Phillip sucked up to me with a sunny smile and how my mother acted like nothing was out of the ordinary really topped it off. Perfect.

It was amazing I didn't have an eating disorder at this point. Truly. But only just.

* * *

Mr. Preppy finally pulled up to a mansion.

It. Was. Enormous.

No. _Colossal_.

It was like Buckingham Palace or something. The White House. You name it.

And it was gorgeous. Modern, sweet, creative, and artsy. The house had a huge front porch and a huge entrance with an even huger door accompanied by a huge metal knocker. The lawn was perfectly mowed, so lusciously green and rich with delicate flowers that it looked like it was from a movie or from one of those fairytale storybooks I used to read when I was little.

And for some reason, this made moving in with Phillip and his perfect preppy crew seem even worse.

I clutched my stomach at the sight of the beautiful estate; so beautiful I didn't want to believe it was really Mr. Preppy's. I wanted him to turn the vehicle around, say it was a joke and direct us to a battered, barely-standing cottage. Yes. The ancient straw cottage was better than this. As long as this showoff of a castle wasn't Mr. Wheaton's proud claim.

I couldn't function as I saw Mr. Wheaton and Maria run up the porch, no _skipping_, flinging open the door so merrily and calling out happily, "Kiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiids! WE'RE HOME!"

* * *

**A/N: Okay? Terrible? Phenomenal? Suckish? Review? ;) **

**I absolutely postively definitely infinitely endlessly love constructive critisism. Think of it as your good deed of the day. **


	2. The Wheatons

**A/N: Thanks so much for the reviews, guys! Really. I love reviews. They make me update faster. **

**I know everyone absolutely hates the beginning of stories with all the exposition, and trust me, it's not that fun to write, but I have to do it. **

**Disclaimer: I do not own Disney or any of these characters except the Wheatons. So far, at least. **

* * *

I felt so nauseated. The blood was rushing to my head, and I couldn't stop it. How could my mother start over like this? How could she forget me, and adopt some other jerk's kids? Just because my dad had fled her life didn't mean that I had ran away too. I was right here. And she was now too blind in love with Phillip to see that.

The only thing I wanted in the entire world was to be in His arms. His. Him. He. Hunter. And his name never sounded so perfect as I whispered it to myself, trying to block the tears from flowing down my face. We didn't have enough time together. It wasn't fair. It didn't have to be like this. He could've fought. He could've fought for our love, for our lives.

When I realized.

Me.

I could have.

I could've fought for our love, our lives. Our blossoming love was sacred; it was everything I had wanted it to be, and I didn't stop it from being torn down. I let it happen. Just because I waiting around for him to rescue me, rescue my life and my love for him from being destroyed. And it was too late.

And just as I was thinking this, I felt a yank on my arm, and before I knew it, I was standing in the huge spanking-new kitchen, uncomfortably sandwiched in between my stepfather-to-be and soon-to-be Mrs. Wheaton. My throat went dry as the four Wheaton kids flumped down the stairs, lining up in age order in front of us, as if this were the Sound Of Music. I strangled down the snigger in my throat, which proved to be a challenge.

"James!" My mother exclaimed, engulfing a small angular boy into a hug. "Miss me?"

"Yeah! Did I tell you I finally got into that national math program?" he grinned excitedly.

I winced. _I_ was the smart one. _Not_ him.

"That's fantastic! Ella here is a smart cookie too!"

Ugh. Not with all the stupid juvenile nicknames. What a way to make an impression. But then again, she wasn't _trying_ to make an impression. Actually, I don't think she was even _making_ an impression. By the looks of it, these kids knew her. And they knew her well.

"Hey Maria, I didn't know you had a daughter!" A girl smiled genially. She had huge round blue eyes, so kind that I felt bad at feeling my sudden urge to kick her in the guts.

"Yes, yes, this is Gabriella," my mother put an arm around me while Preppy beamed, as if I were his own child. "She'll be a senior."

"So will Eric!" My mother's fiancé boasted proudly, gesturing to the tallest of the children. He had thick dark brown hair, and was well-built and muscular. His eyes were huge and gorgeous; I couldn't tell if they were green or blue, as it seemed to change depending on the light or angle. He gave me a true friendly smile; so inviting that I wanted to hug him for seeming like the only normal person so far. I smiled back, my eyes transfixed on his pearly and blindingly white teeth, which seemed identical to his father's. He was definitely hot, but not in the way that made my stomach flip. No. I wasn't ready for that. At least not yet, and maybe not in a long time.

"And my youngest, James," Phillip grinned pompously, motioning to the smallest Wheaton child. James was short, skinny, and scrawny; the typical stereotype of genuine geekiness. I couldn't help but feel sympathy for him, as he looked nerd square, and I was living evidence of its hardships. He was wearing a long-sleeved button-down, his shirt tucked in neatly and his tan pants pulled up high and kept there with a leather belt. His hair was the color of his father's; reddish gold, hold the gold. His eyes were different however, and I recognized them to be very similar to the other girl's eyes: big and burgeoning and blue. "He's got straight A's. He's the smart one, I tell you," Mr. Preppy grinned, his grin so gigantic and stupid-looking that just looking at it hurt. "And he's only in sixth grade! Imagine what he'll be when he's older."

I felt my throat close up as I stole a glance at my mother, grinning proudly at James as if he were her own child. How could she do this? I couldn't ask myself enough. How could she go off so easily? Forgetting about me?

I bit the inside of my cheeks, feeling so uneasy that I couldn't stop my eyes from darting around. The kitchen—it was so spotless and huge and new that it made my eyes burn. The family photos, with them wearing matching Tommy Hilfiger sweaters, hanging all over—so posed and practiced and positive and practically perfect that it made my stomach ache.

"And this—this is Victoria!" exclaimed Mr. Wheaton. He pointed at the brunette who mirrored James' eyes. Her baby blue eyes were round—bigger than her brother's—and they each seemed the size of the earth, taking up half her face. She blinked them innocently a few times, and instead of this habit pissing me off like it usually did, I was surprised as there was a warm manner about her that just made me smile.

"I'll be a freshman," she added, her tone timid but her voice light and sweet, spilling off her tongue and condensing the air with honey. I noticed her beautiful hair, which was long and flawless as it spread out across her shoulder and her back. It was straight, the light warm brown fitting her perfectly. She was sporting a lovely summer dress, sweet and innocent, which seemed to mirror her personality.

A cough and a pride-filled grin. "Elizabeth!"

My gaze traveled over to the last of the Wheaton clan, to a strawberry blonde whose nose, may I add, was stuck up in the air quite high. Her glinting eyes seemed like mere slits, and were an exotic snakeskin green. Freckles were everywhere. On her cheeks, on her forehead, on her throat, on her arms, on her fingers. Every place imaginable was speckled with tiny dots. Her long hair once again reflected her father's; reddish gold, but this time, hold the red. Her hair was sleek and straighter than her sister's. You could easily tell that Victoria's hair was naturally straight, while Elizabeth's was so artificially pole straight that it seemed like cheating. She was wearing a green polo that accented her eyes; a string of pearls adorned her neck and two other ones dotted her ear lobes, finished off by a threateningly high miniskirt and flip-flops. Her figure was convenient for the latest fashions, although she seemed rather short for her age. "Elizabeth'll be a sophomore. Right, honey?" Mr. Wheaton was trying too hard. I could see it as his eyes creased, as his wrinkly skin strained itself and tried to hold on tight to its mask. Elizabeth didn't show any emotion; she just grunted, "Hmph." So haughtily it was like a flashback to ninth grade in Boston with that bitch Hallie Meyers, a.k.a. Queen Bee.

I smiled, hard and forced, trying to be friendly and nice, even though I didn't want to. It wasn't me who wanted to move here. No. It was my mother who dropped the bomb on me. What did she expect? Did she _expect _me to accept the change and suddenly embrace the whole prospect as if we were the Brady Bunch or something? No. I wasn't going to be that girl. I wasn't going to be that girl who went along with everything without a fight, without getting what she wanted for _once_, because she was trying to be polite. I was going to be strong.

At least I wanted to be. But deep down inside me, I knew I had lost the battle I hadn't even started to fight. It was pointless, and I secretly knew it. It just made me feel better to think, to pretend, to imagine that I had a way out. But of course, real life comes knocking at your door and you know there's no loophole. There never is when you're playing the game of life. Why? Oh right. Because it's _not _a game. It's just nice to think that it is.

So I just stood there, so awkwardly and feeling so out of place that my forced, fake smile faltered into a grimace. One that I couldn't seem to shake off. One that was so plastered on, that I want to cry. Because it hurt. Because it hurt to have to fake everything. To pretend. I didn't want to pretend. I wanted to be happy. I wanted to be myself, a thing I hadn't been in a while. Pretending got me nowhere. It just got me into trouble. And unhappiness. I didn't know what was going on around me; what was happening.

I got a sick feeling in my stomach as I remembered the pretending I had put myself through to forget about how it was when my dad left. That I was perfect. That everyone loved me. That I was popular.

When no. It was _nothing _like that. And it barely me feel good.

And then He came. He. My savior. And He took me in His arms, carried me away to His world, where I _was _perfect. Where everyone _did _love me. Where I _was _popular. And it felt so goddamn amazing. To know, that somewhere, some place in this wretched world, that someone loved me. That someone loved me for who I was, even through my pathetic cries and pessimistic attitudes. Even through the trauma I went through.

He loved me.

But I was stupid.

And stupid can ruin everything.

It's just sad that I had to learn the hard way.

* * *

My bedroom is truthfully nice.

I would gush about it more, but then it'd seem like I'm actually appreciating the Wheatons for giving me one of the nicest rooms for my own.

I _would _say that it's ginormous; that it's already decorated perfectly, as if out of a catalog. I _would _ramble on excitedly about how everything is color schemed white or a light lavender blue, or how my closet is bigger than our entire apartment was in New York City. I _would _continue on about how I have my own balcony and gorgeous view. But I'm not going along with it. It's like admitting defeat. I may not be the strongest bow, but I'm not going to let someone snap my arrow either.

I sigh as I plop down onto the large four-poster bed, leaning my head one of its white posts.

I wish I could call Him. I wanted to call Him so desperately and tell Him everything, absolutely everything on my mind, like we used to. I wanted Him to whisper to me, His soft heavenly voice calming me. I wanted Him to lull me to sleep, and make me forget about everything.

When it hit me so inconveniently, like a slap in the face with no warning.

He had left me with no new number, no new address. Nothing. The only thing He had left me with was misery and loneliness.

"Gabriella?"

Knock. Knock.

The door was already open, but being the polite person he is, Eric knocked first. I had been there for four hours, and I already knew that Eric was my favorite Wheaton.

I swiveled around on my bed, giving my best smile to him, allowing him to enter my room. He closed the door softly as he came around and leaned on my dresser.

"I know we seem like some freak show, but not all of us are like that, you know. It's just the impression my dad makes on us."

"Yeah," I nodded, gulping. Eric just smiled at me, gleaming, like all of this is normal.

"You going to East High?"

"Yeah. Is it a…good school?" I felt like such a nerd asking, but I really wanted to know.

"The best." He grinned at me. "Not like anyone takes advantage of it, though."

I allowed myself to laugh, finding myself more at ease than I thought I would be. "Well, I guess I'll be the first and surprise the teachers."

"You would. Most people are more into sports. We're _really _competitive. You know, lotsa school spirit. I'm on the basketball team."

I almost stopped breathing at this.

"Most of my friends are too," he continued. I just nodded, dumbly like one of those Bobbleheads He used to have in His car.

Eric pauses.

It was quiet. Very, very quiet. The silence rang through my ears, and I readjusted my seat on my bed.

_BANG_!

I jumped, my heart jolting in surprise at the sudden noise. Eric was laughing, but not in the mocking way. He wasn't laughing at me; just at the noise.

"That's just James experimenting," he smirked, shaking his head as he tried to suppress his laughter. "My dad's not that…controlling. He just can't bring himself to."

"Yeah," I replied, smiling. Eric smiled back and continued to talk, trying to warm me up more. It seemed to work.

"My stepmother's not much better…or, I can't really call her my stepmother…I'm not really sure _what _she is…I just call her Charity," Eric drops down onto my matching white desk chair, reclining and making himself comfortable.

"Stepmother?" I asked, honestly curious. I didn't understand…Mr. Wheaton was divorced…right?

"No, well—" I knew this was hard for him. He stopped for a moment, glancing down at the floor as he though. I was quiet, as I knew he didn't open up often to people, but I was glad he was opening up to me. Maybe I would get to know him better. "Charity isn't my mother. She's Elizabeth's, Victoria's, and James'. My mother is really…well…" he sighed agitatedly, standing up. His face was as red as tomato sauce, and he aired out his shirt as if it were one hundred degrees in the room.

"You don't have to continue," I said quickly, my eyes fluttering up and down at the sight of him so uneasy. He began to pace the room.

"No," he said. "I _want_ to tell you." He ran a hand through his hair, which made me think so much of how He used to do it, but I tried to shake it out of my head. "My dad had this relationship with this lady in Wichita. It lasted a year. Then…she had me. She left me with my dad…and yeah." He sat down finally, and when I looked at his face, I expected it to be bothered. But it wasn't. He looked perfectly fine with the facts that I found hurtful. "She didn't want me. But you know what? I don't blame her. I mean, who would want me?" he asked himself, laughing slightly, but I didn't find it funny at all. I pressed my lips together, unsure what to say. The atmosphere was awkward for a moment as Eric coughed, and rubbing his hands together before continuing. "Anyway…her name's Karen. She's pretty cool, actually. She lives in Concord now. You know, in New Hampshire. With her husband and two kids. She didn't forget me though. She sends me _loads_, and I mean _shit_ loads of money, for my birthday every year. The cards aren't signed or anything, but…" he shrugged, clasping his hands together. "That's life."

I gulped, feeling very sorry for Eric. He had lived through this his whole life not even knowing his mother, and just getting money from her out of pity. He had pretended that his half-sibling's mother was really his, even when it wasn't. I suddenly saw him in a different light, admiring that he'd kept up so strong. He had gotten through a similar situation much better than I had.

"When did Charity and Phillip get a divorce?" I asked hesitantly, my voice slowly gaining more confidence in his presence.

"Right after James was born," Eric responded. His voice was in a low whisper, and he looked almost in a trance. I knew it was too hard for him to look me in the eye. "I think it must have been a month or so after…Actually, they were fighting about him…"

My heart jerked suddenly with this answer, and I couldn't help but feel deep sympathy for James. To know that I had caused my parents' divorce would kill me forever. My mother told me that I wasn't the cause for my father's leaving, but it always felt like I was. "That must be hard on him," I whispered, my voice quavering as my eyes welled up in tears. Eric looked the other way. I wasn't sure if it was hard for him to see people cry or because he wanted to give me privacy.

"They haven't told him," Eric tried to keep his voice light but it was miserably grim. "Thank God for it too."

I wiped my eyes, sniffling a little. I couldn't cry in front of him. That would be so embarrassing. I'd never be able to forgive myself.

It was silence.

Pure silence.

I knew we were both thinking. Just deeming, contemplating about our lives. And for a second, I didn't feel that suit of loneliness sticking to me. For just a second, I felt contented and welcoming of this company. I hadn't felt that in a long time. And this time, instead of feeling opposed to it, I liked it. And I let it surround me.

So I took a risk. I broke the intense silence.

I coughed into my fist before starting, my voice timid and slow. "My dad left me and my mom a year ago…it was tough…" I tried to say this without tears brimming my eyes, like Eric had so bravely shared with me, but I couldn't. I wasn't strong enough. "He said he didn't like how my mother's job required us to move around a lot…I don't think that was it. Or at least, all of it." I coughed into my fist again, shielding my eyes with my arm as I turned the other way. Thankfully, Eric was facing the other wall, his back to my back. "My mom won't tell me." It was quiet again.

"Maybe it's best if you don't know," Eric said quietly. "Maybe it'll only hurt you more."

I knew that was true. "I guess…"

It was really quiet again.

"You know, if you need anything…feel free to come by and ask. You know, I'm the next hall over so…" Eric stood up, stuffing his hands in his pockets and shrugging. His blue-green eyes glimmered under the rays of sunlight shining through the windows, and he ran a hand through his thick dark hair, inching towards the door.

"Yeah…I'll keep that in mind. Thanks," I replied, smiling a little.

"You're welcome. I'm going bowling with a few of my friends. You wanna come? You know, meet my gang?" Eric asked politely, almost sounding hopeful that I would come.

I shook my head. "Maybe another time…I'm not really up for it."

"Okay…well, I'll hold you to that."

I smiled again.

"Okay…have fun."

"Thanks. See you later." He exited my room and jogged down the steps of the house and out the door. I shut the bedroom door after him, sighing and collapsing onto my bed. I was so tired. So tired of this. So tired of having to move around like this. I was sick of it. Even though I knew this was the last time, it was still the same process.

And what else could I do?

There was so much; so much I wanted to say. I needed to tell someone, as soon as I could. It hurt; it hurt so much to bottle everything up inside. I could feel it cutting into my heart. It was like taking all the pieces of my life and swallowing them down, without breaking the bits apart first; without a filter. I couldn't do this anymore. I wasn't capable. I didn't want to. But I had to. Because there was nothing else I could do, no one to tell. How was I supposed to express myself in my constricted, suffocating life?

So without any other clue and a desperate longing for release, I curled up into a ball on my bed and cried my heart out.

* * *

**A/N: Fine? Horrible? Terrific? Gross? Review? ;) **

**I absolutely postively definitely infinitely endlessly love constructive critisism. Think of it as your good deed of the day. **


	3. Chad After Game

**A/N: Thanks so much for the reviews, guys! And a special extra thanks to those with long reviews and constructive critisism. :D **

**I would like to formally inform that this story, which was formerly T rated, is now going to be switched to M. I'm not sure if profanity is allowed with a T rating, so just to be sure, I'm changing it. I was going to change it to M later anyway, because there will be smut later on, but I was thinking, 'What the hell? I'll just do it now.' So I'm changing it. Is that okay? If anyone has any objections...erm, PM me or something. Or just say so in review. **

**Disclaimer: I do not own Disney or any of these characters except the Wheatons. So far, at least. **

* * *

The next day was Friday.

And the most dreaded of all the dreaded dreads started on Monday.

In other words, school.

As much as I loved schoolwork and learning, I hated starting _new _schools. I would be starting my thirteenth. When I told Eric this, I could tell he thought that was insane but I appreciated him for simply assuring me that I'd love East High.

Yeah…_sure_. _Sure_, I'd love it. They always told me that. Every time I started a new school it was always, "You'll _love _it." Yeah, sure. I bet everyone loved that hobo school I went to in New York City. I bet everyone loved that crucially religious Catholic school I went to in Maine with the strictest nuns I'd ever met. Yeah. _Sure_.

I spent the days leading up to Monday doing what I did best in these sorts of situations: nothing. It grew to be extremely boring; not like I'd expected anything different. I fell into the routine of staying in my room, staring out the window pensively in trances. Sometimes, I would just cry. And the more I did cry, the more I realized that it wasn't helping me express myself. I felt just as choked up.

"Gabriella?"

I made my way to the door, opening it to reveal Eric, who was smiling as usual.

"Hey," I said, my voice unnaturally forced. I slopped on a grimace, but it seemed to slip off.

"So…do you want to meet my friend Chad? We're taking notes on summer reading," he explained.

"You mean, playing video games," I smirked, a smug look crossing my face.

Eric snickered lightly. "Yeah," he sighed sheepishly. "Or that." We had definitely grown closer over the last few days. It was nice. Slow, but nice. Not what I predicted, but I was glad that it wasn't. I appreciated the fact that he tried to make me feel comfortable. Elizabeth, on the other hand, seemed to be the opposite, trying as hard as she could to make me feel _un_comfortable. I wasn't sure what her problem was, but that was only the few times a week she was actually home. James was always cooped up in his room reading, researching, or conducting experiments, and Victoria…well, I wasn't sure what she did, but she certainly was very nice the couple of times I had encountered her around the house. My mother and Preppy were almost never home, going off and "doing things for the wedding." Overall, Eric was still my favorite. "Want to meet him? He'll be going to East High as well, so you know, you may want to get to know him a little bit."

I was bored, so I gave in.

Eric's room was spacey and large, though not quite as huge as mine. He wasn't that messy (thank God), but he also wasn't a neat freak. He had a good balance. The walls of his room were a soft calm blue, the color of the sky, and I suspected that had been the color the room was painted when he was a baby. They'd probably never even bothered to change the color. Chad was seated on the floor in front of the television, his hands glued to the remote and his fingers flying as he pushed buttons.

"Dude, I think I got a fucking new record! I think I beat the Captain's," Chad smirked, his eyes stuck to the screen as he continued to concentrate hard.

"Chad, I'd like you to meet Gabriella, my soon-to-be stepsister," Eric beamed, taking a step back as if to showcase me. I bit my lip, feeling shy and a little out of place.

"Wait like five secs dude, I'm almost done—" Chad mumbled, his fingers continuing to skip over the remote control. He pressed his lips together in anticipation and focus. "Aaaaaaand…DONE!" He jumped up excitedly, pumping a fist up in victory. "Dude, I BEAT TR—"

"—Chad, you're making a bad impression on Gabriella," Eric cut in, rolling his eyes. Chad quieted down quickly, looking embarrassed for a mere second, but just as quickly, he wiped it off. His eyes locked with mine for a second. They widened at the sight of me, but I was thankful when he didn't try anything. He just smiled genially.

"Yo, I'm Chad," he said, composing himself as neatly as he could, smiling radiantly and nodding.

"I'm Gabriella," I replied, rather nervous and fidgety.

Chad was a tall African American guy with an enormous afro of brown curls. He was built, like Eric, and I figured he was also on the basketball team. He already seemed like a nice friendly guy, and I could definitely see why Eric and him were good friends.

"You going to East High?" Chad asked, plopping onto Eric's bed and grabbing the remote control in his hands again. He started to set up the next game.

"Yeah," I nodded, biting my lip hard again. I was starting to feel more at ease as Eric joined Chad in his video game, and I sat down in Eric's desk chair and watched. The video game was boring with all the guns and canons and shooting, but the conversation wasn't so bad. At least the guy could carry a conversation at all! Penn Simmons from when I lived in Austin couldn't keep a conversation for more than ten seconds.

"You'll love it," he said, his eyes pasted to the screen again as his fingers worked their magic.

Again.

"Yeah," I nodded, sighing.

"Dude, we've _got _to introduce Gabs to the gang," Chad said to Eric, whom was also busily playing the video game, his eyes darting back and forth on the bright screen. "Is it okay if I call you Gabs?"

"Yeah," I responded monotonously, realizing that was the third time I had said it in a row. I swallowed, adding a little more to sound more interesting, "Brie is also fine. My mom calls me Ella, but she's pretty much the only one. Just don't call me…Gabi." I as literally choking on the last part, unable to force the name out of my mouth.

"Oh…and why is that?" he questioned, his voice sounding more interested than it had before.

"My…ex-boyfriend…used to call me that," I whispered dejectedly, unable to stop my voice from cracking. I looked down at my lap quickly.

Chad and Eric were quiet for a moment. The only thing that could be heard was gunshots and explosions.

"And…what happened?" Eric asked hesitantly in equal volume, his tone careful and kind.

"He left me," I whispered bluntly, my eyes glossing with a few tears.

Neither Chad nor Eric spoke for a moment.

"I'm very sorry," Chad sighed finally. Their video game was over. They stared at me for a simple second, but fortunately Chad sensed I was feeling uncomfortable, so he refocused his attention back to Eric. "So…dude, tell Taylor I'm picking her up Friday after the game."

"Why can't _you_ tell her?" Eric muttered defensively, his expression annoyed. I could tell he was fed up with what was going on between Chad and whoever this Taylor was. He stood up, switching off the game system and putting back the remotes in their rightful places.

"I can't face her after that fight we had, man, but I need her for the big game," Chad explained exasperatedly, jumping up and leaning on the wall. "She's my good luck charm."

"Chad, stop fucking around with her and just freaking get serious!" Eric exclaimed irritably, sighing and shaking his head. "Sorry Brie, that you have to be around to hear all this shit," he apologized to me, rolling his eyes at Chad who continued to complain angrily.

"I _can't _get serious with her! She's like so fucking bossy and controlling—"

"Chad, remember," Eric sighed, dropping down to his bed. "You _love _her."

"I never said that!" Chad defended firmly, crossing his arms. Eric rolled his eyes again, knowing it was very well true.

"Whatever Chad. It's so obvious that no one would give a shit if you screamed it off the top of the Eiffel Tower," Eric replied, bored. "Anyway, let's stop putting Brie to sleep with this crap."

"Fine," Chad huffed in defeat. "But tell her, okay? C'mon dude, it's just three words."

"Three? It's not _three_! CHAD—WILL—PICK—YOU—UP—AFTER—THE—GAME—ON—FRIDAY," Eric counted on his fingers. "Last time I checked, that was ten words."

"Dude! Just _make _it three! CHAD—AFTER—GAME. See how easy that was?"

"Which Chad? Chad Michael Murray? Which game? Video game? Game in two weeks? How long after? Five hours? That's not enough info," Eric struggled to win the argument.

"_Yes_, it _is _enough info! Trust me man, she knows me. Just tell her, okay?"

"Fine," Eric sulked in a barely coherent mumble, sinking down on his bed. I knew he just wanted Chad to shut up.

We continued to talk after that, and I found myself lighten up, smooth as butter. Gradually again, but that was okay. I was always slow at this. And slow was good. You had less of a chance of tripping up.

I liked Chad. He was cool and kind. I hoped Eric's other friends were nice too. If I didn't make friends by the first two months of school, I'd just sneak into Eric's gang and hopefully find a home there. Until then, I crossed my fingers.

* * *

Three twenty-four…three twenty-six…three twenty-eight—

That was it. It had to be. I knew I was incredibly late, the squeaky-clean hallways deserted and quiet. I had gotten lost, taking a whole tour of the gigantic school twice before finding my first class. And here it was.

I drew in a deep breath, closing my eyes briefly before pushing open the wooden door, not sure of what to expect on the other side. I was met with a similar visual of what I'd pictured—a full, bored class all slouching in their seats lazily, an energetic teacher who thought people were paying attention, and a bright classroom with one too many posters. The sunlight was prolifically pouring through the windows, filling the summery room with a warm, comfortable atmosphere.

The teacher was a bit lumpy, with frizzy orange hair that just sat on her shoulders like an accessory. She hadn't noticed my quiet entrance, and kept on lecturing to the students, who were all either staring out the window longingly, sneakily passing notes, or falling into a slumber. The students didn't seem to notice me either. I closed the door behind me with an unintentional bang, making everyone jolt in their seats. One boy dropped a pencil, and the clink it made with the tiled floor was clearly heard in the sudden, intimidating silence. The teacher turned to me, revealing her pale face and stretched smile.

"You must be," she rushed to her desk where she had a list of all her students, "…Gab—Gabber elly?" I shook my head, pursing my lips together and trying to avoid the burning stares of all the students.

"Um, Gabriella. It's Gabriella," I corrected her nervously, shifting my weight on my feet.

"Oh!" the chunky woman offered a fake giggle. "Right, of course. Gabrielle Mow-on-tess." That old woman desperately needed glasses. Either she was blind as a bat, or really needed to go back to school.

"Gabriella _Montez_."

At this point, all the amused students started to laugh loudly. I felt blush creep up my neck, the crimson color flooding my cheeks. I twisted the material of my skirt in my fist uneasily, sinking deeper with embarrassment by the second.

"Of course! Right," the redheaded woman replied merrily, hopping back to her previous spot in front of the class. She went right on lecturing. I was appalled.

"Um, excuse me," I cut in. The teacher gave me a look as if to say 'How dare you interrupt my lesson!'. I ignored her. "Excuse me, but I don't have a seat."

The lady feigned a smile again. It came out as more of a stretched grimace. "Right. Sit next to—how about Taylor? Right. Go sit next to Taylor."

That was all she said before picking up right where she left off, and she kept on rambling about the areas of history we'd be covering for that term.

I was speechless, clueless; completely lost. Still. I looked out over the sea of deadly bored students, unsure which one was Taylor. I guessed this was Chad's ladyfriend, so that at least eliminated the boys in the class. I knew I wasn't supposed to interrupt the teacher again, who still remained nameless to me, because I knew I'd end up on her bad side. Thankfully, a boy in the front row gave me a smile and gestured over to the back corner of the classroom, right next to a warm open window. I nodded thanks. The corner desk was empty. Except there was a girl occupying the next desk over.

Was that her?

I quietly tiptoed over to the empty desk, leaning over cautiously and asking the pretty girl whom Taylor was politely, just to make sure.

"It's me," the African American whispered, smiling radiantly. I nodded, setting my things on the floor near my desk and sitting down quickly.

"Oh. Sorry. I'm new here—you know, and I didn't want to nag Mrs.—"

"—_Miss _Kramer," Taylor filled in helpfully.

"Thanks. Yeah, so Miss Kramer. She's a little…"

Taylor laughed quietly, "Yeah. You get used to her. I don't know. I had her last year too."

"That must've been terrible," I responded.

Taylor raised her eyebrows. "I'm fine with that really; I'm just lucky I didn't get Mr. Hull for homeroom again." She leaned back in her chair, resting her chin on her palm.

I smiled kindly back at her, and she gave me a genial smile in return.

Taylor laughed again before adding in her soft velvety voice, "Yeah, Mr. Hull teaches English. You'll know him when you see him. He's really ugly. His gray hair—at least the few strands he has left—sticks up like he'd been electrocuted, and he's got this huge, _enormous _nose that's all round near the bottom. His face literally looks like some kindergartener formed it out of clay."

I laughed. "I think I have him."

Taylor's eyes widened empathetically, but she waved her hand to me as if not to worry. "It's okay, really. He's just really boring. But extremely easy."

"Ahem, _and _deadly ugly. If I have to stare at him all year long, I think that's pretty bad!" I scoffed lightheartedly.

I watched as she brushed her dark hair away from her face, and as it perfectly shimmered down her back. Her brown eyes glimmered, sparkling so extravagantly and glamorously that I felt envy rush through my veins. I could definitely see why Chad was in love with her.

"I guess so. Don't worry though. At least you didn't get Mrs. Ruby," she sighed to me, slouching further back in her chair. "So…where'd you move from?"

"San Diego."

"That sounds gorgeous…I'd love to live in California," Taylor laughed, shrugging. "They have a lot more educational programs, and overall, it's a lot more interesting than dry New Mexico."

"Yeah, that was the same thing I loved about California, too!" I exclaimed, surprised, leaning in across the aisle.

Taylor immediately abandoned her slouch and leaned forward in her seat.

"Really? Awesome!" Taylor nodded eagerly. "I take school very seriously."

"Me too," I smiled. "I think it is sad when people don't take their studies seriously." I liked that we had something in common at least. Maybe this place wasn't going to be so bad if I had some friends. I had been so miserable without Him.

"I know! They don't even think about how their grades will affect them in the future," Taylor agreed.

"They'll end up working in the food court at the mall," I giggled.

"Yeah. Speaking about malls, would you like to come with me after school?" Taylor suggested. "This school doesn't give homework on the first day."

"That'd be wonderful!" I said a little too loud. Taylor laughed.

"Okay, great! I'll meet you here right after last period ends. Great?" Taylor asked. I was at a loss of words. I'd never made a friend so fast in my life.

"Yeah…um, great!" I breathed exasperatedly.

"Fantastic! I'll drive you." My face broke out into a huge smile, and I just couldn't help myself.

"Thanks," I smiled.

"No problem!" Taylor smiled.

"Dan Jacobsen!" My heart jumped at the sudden sound of Ms. Kramer barking at the boy in the front row. "Would you pay attention? Now answer the question: What is it called when a man has more than one wife at the same time?"

The poor boy's face went completely red, and he chewed on the inside of his cheeks nervously. His eyes glanced at the class before shrugging a little and answering hopefully, "Cheating?"

"No!" Ms. Kramer shook her head, her orange hair staying still. "Ms. McKessie, would you care to give us the right answer?" Ms. Kramer's expression quickly changed to sweet and suck-up, and it was as if she worshiped Taylor for being the only good student in the class.

"Yes, Ms. Kramer," Taylor answered skillfully, "When a man has more than one wife at the same time, it is called polygamy."

"Very good, Ms. McKessie!" Ms. Kramer clapped happily as if she were speaking to a kindergartener. "See, class? We need more people like her!"

Taylor went white with embarrassment, the whole room seeming to shift as its contents glared at her. She bit her lip again, trying to hide from their glares. They looked away as Ms. Kramer continued to drawl on, picking on other victims. I knew she'd never call on me, because she'd began to call people twice, so I figured she'd forgotten my name.

Suddenly, I heard a vibrating sound, and Taylor pulled out her cell phone and hid it under her desk. She flipped it open and a look of confusion crossed her face as she read the text message.

"It says…Chad—after—game…" Taylor trailed off, her eyebrows furrowing together. She took to biting her lip. "It's from Eric Wheaton. What do you suppose that means?" It was so hard to keep myself from laughing. Instead, I was smirking. "What?" Taylor snapped, not thinking it was funny. "What's so funny?"

"Chad is going to pick you up after the game on Friday," I sniggered.

Taylor rolled her eyes as she texted back: "NO!! HE—ASSHOLE!!"

"Eric is actually my—" I was cut off by the bell, and I was surprised at how the time had flown so quickly. Or maybe that was because I'd been so late.

"See you after school?" Taylor asked me as everyone hurriedly shuffled out of the room.

"Yeah," I responded excitedly.

The mall trip with Taylor had been loads of fun. We found out we had a lot more in common than we thought we had, and we got along really naturally. The next day, Taylor invited me to go to a different, larger mall with her friends, and I agreed excitedly. That was also tons of fun. I really liked her friends, and they were all so nice and helpful to me. There was Kelsi, the shy but musically talented girl. There was Martha, the "pop-and-lock" dancer with the curly hair, and then there was Sharpay, the shopaholic and actress, who was a drama queen but still nice. By the end of the week, I felt truly adopted into their clique. I sat with them at lunch and everything, and I was proud. I told Eric that I became friends with them, and he seemed ecstatic for me.

Maybe Albuequerque was going to be all right.

* * *

**_troyb-ballboy1 _**_has just signed on. _

**_chadizzbadddd_ **_has just signed on_.

**chadizzbadddd: **heyyyyy dude how u fairing?

**troyb-ballboy1: **shit. feel so lonely. feel so sick.

**chadizzbadddd: **dude z school izz compltly empty & lifeless w/o u. cum bak now. eric got a nu stepsister & she izz HOTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTT

**troyb-ballboy1: **his dad finly remarried?

**chadizzbadddd: **ya 2 sum 4in lady…but i swear this babe izz hotttter than latishia yu after she came back from paris

**troyb-ballboy1: **god i wish i could be there 2 see her

**chadizzbadddd: **total chick seems like a good fuck

**troyb-ballboy1: **mmmmmhhhh ok ill remember that

**chadizzbadddd: **ya but id never do her…………….i mean, shes erics sister!!

**troyb-ballboy1: **rite…whats she look like?

**chadizzbadddd: **brown hair, gorguss brown Is…petite small kinda short skinny…ur type

**troyb-ballboy1: **hhhhhhhhmmmmmm mayb wen I cum bak ill chek her out

**chadizzbadddd: **ya shes a little nerdy but then id b a total hypocrite cuz shes in the same level as tay…

**troyb-ballboy1: **oh…

**chadizzbadddd: **ya but shes so hotttttttt it totally makes uppp 4 it

**troyb-ballboy1: **whats her name?

**chadizzbadddd: **Gabriella.

**_troyb-ballboy1 _**_has just signed off._

* * *

**A/N: Fine? Horrible? Terrific? Gross? Review? ;) **

**I absolutely postively definitely infinitely endlessly love constructive critisism. Think of it as your good deed of the day. **

**Here is a translation of the IM convo: **

_**Troy **has just signed on. _

**_Chad_ **_has just signed on_.

**Chad: **Hey, dude, how are you?

**Troy: **Shit. I feel so lonely. I feel so sick.

**Chad: **Dude, the school is completely empty and lifeless without you. Come back now. Eric got a new stepsister and she is HOT.

**Troy: **His dad finally remarried?

**Chad: **Yeah, to some foreign lady…but I swear, this babe is hotter than Latishia Yu after she came back from Paris.

**Troy: **God, I wish I could be there to see her.

**Chad: **Total chick. Seems like a good fuck.

**Troy: **Okay, I'll remember that.

**Chad: **Yeah but I'd never do her…I mean, she's Eric's sister!

**Troy: **Right…what does she look like?

**Chad: **Brown hair, gorgeous brown eyes…petite, small, kind of short and skinny… Your type.

**Troy: **Hmm…maybe when I come back I'll check her out.

**Chad: **Yeah, she's a little nerdy, but then I'd be a total hypocrite because she's in the same level as Tay…

**Troy: **Oh…

**Chad: **Yeah, but she's so hot, that it totally makes up for it.

**Troy: **What's her name?

**Chad: **Gabriella.

_**Troy **has just signed off. _


	4. Labor Day

****

A/N: Thanks so much for the reviews, guys! And a special extra thanks to FeJoy29 for her especially long review. ;)

**Disclaimer: I do not own Disney or any of these characters except the Wheatons. So far, at least. **

* * *

Monday was Labor Day.

Since we had no school, Eric wanted to invite his friends over, but he asked my permission first. It was so cute, I have to admit. I thought it was extremely considerate that he thought about what I wanted too before doing what he wanted.

"Hey, Brie?" He came knocking on my bedroom door again. "Would it be okay if my friends came over?"

"Yeah, sure. You don't have to ask me," I waved my hand for extra reassurance.

"Oh, well, I just wanted to make sure in case you didn't like them," Eric said, running his fingers through his thick dark hair, almost nervously. He was referring to Chad, Zeke, Ryan, and Jason, whom I'd been introduced to at school. I had immediately liked them too. Zeke and Jason were also on the basketball team, and were very competitive and obsessed, as were Chad and Eric. Ryan was more into acting, singing, and dancing with his twin sister Sharpay. I felt sorry for Ryan because he had to put up with Sharpay's infinite drama everyday, but he seemed totally used to it.

"Yeah, no, I really liked them," I nodded reassuringly. "They're really cool."

"You sure? Chad said if he came he'd bring his…um, friend…Taylor over, who decided to bring her friend Kelsi…who chose to bring Martha…and Zeke's bringing his girlfriend Sharpay…so, we're pretty much going to have a get-together. You should definitely join us, because you know, they're your friends too. I would force you to come to the bowling alley with me, but it's closed today," he winked. "But I'm still holding you up to it."

"Okay," I smiled, turning to the next page in my chemistry textbook and placing it upon my lap. "What time are they coming?"

"Well, once I call them, they'll be here in like…" Eric pressed his lips together and stared towards the ceiling as he pondered in exaggeration. I giggled lightly. "Maybe two minutes? Three? Tops is four."

"Okay," I giggled, biting the eraser tip of my pencil as I contemplated the next question.

"We'll be in the game room," Eric informed, inching out of my room. "When you're finished, you can come down. Take your time, really."

"Thanks, Er," I called out as he retreated from my room.

"No prob." I heard him holler from the staircase.

I giggled again, rolling my eyes and turning back to my chemistry homework. I tried to do it faster than I normally would, kind of excited, as pathetic as it sounds. I never really had a group of friends before. I moved so much that it was impossible for me to be situated so fast and accepted among the school. But here, with Eric's help, and just knowing that I wouldn't be moving again…that just made everything seem final. And that, instead of making it harder, made it feel easier.

Five or so minutes later, I was trampling down the steps leading to the game room, which was a whole huge section off of the basement. It was carpeted a gray blue, the walls were painted white, and it was equipped with any game you could think of. There were closets that lined the walls were crammed with board games, and then additionally there was a pool table, air hockey, and foosball. There was also a little bar in one corner that I guessed Preppy used for guests, plus a refrigerator behind the counter for drinks and snacks.

The center of the room inhabited a few white sofas, which were covered with expensive leather. Currently lounged on those very sofas was "the gang", as Eric referred to them—Sharpay was curled up next to Zeke in a loveseat; Taylor and Chad occupied another one, sitting a good three feet away and looking rather fidgety and nervous; Kelsi was sandwiched uncomfortably between Jason and Ryan, stealing glances at either one every few seconds; Martha was relaxing on a single recliner; and there was Eric, sitting on a davenport.

As I stepped into the room, everyone suddenly turned to look at me, their heads snapping up towards the staircase and their jumble of words immediately catching in their throats. The atmosphere grew intolerably thick with heating intensity, and I felt suffocated by the overwhelming attention. I lowered my eyes. No one even blinked.

I gulped, smiling the best I could and trying not to grow more nervous and freak completely. Eric scooted over on his two-person sofa, motioning for me to share the couch with him. I briskly walked over to him, reposing quietly in the seat beside him. Still, their transfixed gazes were burning holes through my head. I stared down at my lap, playing with my clammy fingers, my tongue bit in between my teeth.

Eric coughed into his fist. "Anyone want to…drink something?"

"You got some good beer?" Jason asked.

"Dude, you know my dad would flip if he found us drinking down here," Eric sighed.

Kelsi, Martha, Zeke, and Ryan all turned their attention to Eric after he announced alcoholic beverages, but I continued to feel like I was under the microfying glass as Sharpay, Taylor, and Chad seemed to scrutinize me, analyzing every detail about me. Their squinted eyes traveled up and down my form, and I wiggled in my seat uncomfortably, desperate to be out from their inspections. I knew they weren't doing this on purpose, but I couldn't help feeling my urges to slap them till they stopped.

"Eric, your dad's never home anymore," Zeke rolled his eyes. "C'mon, man, just once."

Eric heaved a sigh again, threading his fingers through his almost-black hair again. "Fine," he mumbled in defeat. "But…um, Chad, you need to come with me." Eric stood up quickly, grasping Chad by his forearm and yanking him to a standing position.

"Yo, dude, be careful! I need that arm for basketball!" Chad fought irritably, wrenching his arm out of Eric's death grip and reluctantly following Eric up the stairs. I heard him mutter under his breath, "Idiot."

"How much do you want to bet they come back with sodas?" Zeke huffed in an annoyed attitude, jumping up from his girlfriend's tight embrace and residing to the pool table, digging his hands in the pockets in search for the colored balls. "Eric's too much of a goody-good."

"Shut up, Zekey," Shar crossed her arms, offended. Taylor told me the other day that Sharpay used to have a little thing for Eric while they were in middle school.

"So…when are you guys' parents getting married?" Martha asked genially, switching the topic eagerly, and leaning forward in her seat in interest.

"November first," I replied, nodding.

I understood suddenly. They had been staring at me because they hadn't known Eric's dad was getting married to my mom. I had forgotten that they hadn't known. No wonder.

"Why didn't you tell me Eric was going to be your stepbrother?" Sharpay asked, her manner signaling to me she was somewhat hurt. She almost seemed jealous that I lived with him.

I shrugged. "I'm sorry, Shar…but it just never…came up. It's not _that _big of a deal, is it?"

Kelsi clucked her tongue. "Well—maybe not, but, you know, it was kind of a shock. I mean, I remember when Mr. Wheaton and Charity got a divorce, so you know…naturally I'd be in surprise."

I nodded again in understanding.

"Guys, where's the black eight ball?" Zeke yelled from across the room, still peering in the deep pockets for the missing ball.

"Check the cabinet where all the pool sticks are, babe," Sharpay hollered back. Zeke searched through the cabinet exclusively reserved for pool supplies, punching his fist in the air in victory after a few seconds.

"Found it!" Zeke exclaimed. "Ryan, dude, come join me. If you win, I'll pay you fifty."

Ryan dwelled over to Zeke, adding in mocking arrogance, "I don't need any money. I've got well enough."

"Whatever dude, just play me."

Jason sighed tiredly, turning over on the couch. "What's taking Danforth and Wheaton so long?"

"I'll go check on them," I blurted, wanting to exit the scene. I felt a tad awkward with many of them still stealing glancing at me, and I wanted to escape the examinations for just a moment. I just needed a breather. I bounced to my feet quickly, trekking up the stairs and making my way towards the kitchen, but I stopped suddenly, my heart jolting as I heard voices.

"Stop fucking staring at her! You guys were making her so nervous."

"I couldn't help it! Just knowing that she was—"

"—Shut up, Chad, what if they hear downstairs?"

"No one will ever hear! This house is too fucking big!"

"Chad, what if someone comes up here or something? What if _she _comes up here and hears us? Just keep your voice down."

Suddenly, I heard a ringtone echoing through the enormous kitchen, but it abruptly stopped as the owner of the cell phone answered.

"Dude, I've been waiting for you to call forever! What have you decided?"

It was Chad's voice.

"One second, man, I just need to tell Eric something."

I peeked into the kitchen cautiously, and Chad had covered the mouthpiece of his phone before whispering to Eric, "The Cap says hi. Just take the drinks down 'cause this may be a while." Eric obeyed, and I muttered a prayer of thanks to God that Eric left the room using the other doorway.

Chad pressed the phone to his ear again, speaking in a loud whisper.

"What am I supposed to say?!"

Pause.

"Nothing?! You expect me just to sit back and do nothing?!"

Longer pause.

"I am not a stalker! I can't do that, man, I can't. I'd feel so terrible about it…"

Chad shook his head vigorously, and he looked very unsure of himself as he finally sat down on a counter stool, his fingers shaking. His whole expression suddenly changed as the person on the other side of the conversation spoke. Chad's face fell, and I swear I saw his eyes brim with tears. He swallowed with difficulty, managing to choke out a vague, "Oh."

Pause, but not because of the other speaker. Chad wiped his eyes with the back of his hand, drawing in a deep quaky breath.

"I'm sorry, man…I know you must be dying…I know, I understand…I'll execute the plan then…"

Pause.

"Who can I tell?"

Longer pause.

"That's it?"

Pause.

"No, I understand, I promise. She's in good hands…You want me to _talk_ to her?! Dude, it's one or the other! Not both!" Chad's eyebrows furrowed together in mild anger, but his face softened once more.

"Oh…okay…I see…"

Sigh.

"I will…I know…we all miss you, Captain, so come back soon. Hopefully you didn't forget about us and good ole Albuquerque…Practices are really that rough, huh? Now I'm glad I didn't go to that boot camp with you, even if it does mean missing school…"

There was an excruciatingly long pause. Chad bit his lip hard, his eyes creasing. He closed them for a brief moment, sighing before answering gravely, "I will. I promise."

At this, he hung up the phone, shutting it with a snap but not standing up. He sighed again, his forehead connecting with the cool surface of the marble countertop.

I raced back away from the kitchen and down the stairs to the game room again once I saw him stand, and I breathlessly sprawled onto one of the sofas just as Chad came plunking down the steps. At once, he made a beeline for Taylor, weaving his fingers with hers.

"Taylor, I need to talk to you," he stated firmly, his face stone hard and serious. Taylor nodded, chewing the inside of her cheeks nervously, and grabbing her coat that was lying across the sofa. "We're leaving, Eric, but thanks for the invite," Chad called to Eric, whom was rummaging through the refrigerator behind the bar. Taylor was staring at the floor, her mind obviously clogged with worry and questions.

"So soon?" Eric asked disappointedly, almost in a pout.

"Yeah, um, something came up," Chad said this, gritting his teeth to Eric as if to give him a sign. Eric's eyes widened tremendously as he seemed to understand, for he nodded knowingly, and brushed the early exit off his shoulders easily.

"Sure, man, I'll see you at school tomorrow."

"Okay. Bye, guys," Eric waved with one hand, the other selecting a Corona from the refrigerator. Chad quickly swept Taylor for the room, guiding her out through the back door with a hand on the small of her back.

Questions were shooting in my mind like crazy. I felt sickeningly dizzy.

Who was Chad talking to? He called him Captain, so was he the captain of the basketball team? And what did he mean he didn't want to act like a stalker? What was it about talking to 'her'? Taylor? Is that why he needed to talk to her? Is that why they left early?

I was so confused that my head started to hurt, and I excused myself to my bedroom to rest. I made a mental note to ask Sharpay. I knew I couldn't ask Taylor or Chad directly, and I especially knew she'd spill. That diva couldn't keep secrets very well, even though she _was _an actress. I spent the remainder of the day doing homework and mulling everything over in my brain, hoping to find an answer.

I didn't get one.

* * *

**A/N: Disclaimer: I also don't own Corona beer. **


	5. Stares and Stars

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A/N: Thanks so much for the reviews!

I am very sorry for the wait but I was on vacation! I'm really sorry; I was going to tell you guys but I forgot. (cringes) Hold your daggers. This chapter should make up for it.

**Disclaimer: I do not own Disney or any of these characters except the Wheatons, Alexa Daney, Mike Sanyor, Latishia Yu, Cadence Crawford, and Coach Berkerey. :D For now. **

* * *

On Tuesday, I walked into school like I had every other day the previous week. But this time, boosted by new confidence because of my new friends, I didn't try to hide in the school hallways. I took good looks around, observing the people intricately and what they did.

A thin, toned cheerleader I recognized from my history class as Alexa Daney was gossiping to her two sidekicks, whispering something in their ears rapidly while her eyes darted around. She had long, thin blonde hair, skimming her waist. Stretched, slender legs did a poor job of supporting her, which were so skinny they somewhat resembled a chicken's. Her eyes were tiny and seemed like mere dots of sky blue. She also had a miniscule mole, just to the side of her mouth. Alexa was a sneaky one. I had learned quickly to stay out of her path.

I snapped my head in the other direction, only to find a second East High student staring at something unidentified.

It was a football jock named Mike Sanyor, watching something with an amused expression on his face. He was built and burly, his muscles so large and bulging that it was almost frightening. There were countless rumors that he was using steroids, and somehow, they seemed very believable. He had dark hair and matching dark eyes, beady and seeming to squint so hard that it hurt to look at him. He was a player. Thank God he was only in my gym class. He scared me to death.

Latishia Yu, the number one girl to fuck on every single guy's list, was watching something too, her gaze uncomfortable and unsettling. She always had this awkward way about her, and her head was constantly up in the clouds. She was the central girl of the school; everything seemed to revolve around her, and the boys absolutely fell at her feet. None of the girls seemed to understand what made her _so_ appealing and alluring to the hormonal boys. Sure, I understood why, but along with the rest of the female population at East High, I was bummed why they superiorized her _so_ drastically much more than the other girls.

Maybe it was because she was so strikingly exotic looking, her multiracial element playing its part—her mother was mostly African American, while her father was mostly Chinese. Yet, she had these spinning almond-shaped hazel eyes, said to have come from her Italian great-grandmother. Latishia had a reputation for the skinniest, smallest waist you'd ever see; I was sure she could wrap her hands around it. In addition, she had enormous, full boobs, which were always literally spilling out of skimpy tank tops. It was honestly quite disgusting, but the guys all drooled over her despite. But what she was really famous for was her ass. I swear to God, her ass was triple the size it should have been to be considered at least slightly normal.

Cadence Crawford was also staring at something, someone. She was a geek. Like me, I guess you could say, but even lower on the popularity scale. She was scrawny and short, borderline midget, with wispy blonde hair that I suspected she had never brushed in her life. It was tangled helplessly, her green eyes pale, and she always gave off an odor that smelled like a grandmother. She wore these huge plastic framed glasses, which were practically screaming for an upgrade. Plus, she wore grammy cardigans and stiff pants with waists up at the bellybutton. She was always hugging a book to her chest, as if it were her guardian, saving her from the "evils" of the school.

What were they all staring at? I was growing anxious in anticipation and worry. I tried following their gazes, but every time I locked eyes with one of them accidentally, they would jerk their eyes away.

What was up with this? I was beginning to grow extremely nervous. Shit. If I were stuck at this school for the rest of the year, at a place where I felt suddenly so uncomfortable around the rest of the school, I would perish. This was no way to enjoy senior year. This was no way near what I'd wanted, what I had fantasized. Then again, nothing had turned out they way I had made believed it to be.

When I noticed.

They were staring.

At me.

They were all staring, whispering in each other's ears, stealing quick furtive glances at me, and hoping I wouldn't notice.

But I did.

Why were they all staring? Why were they all whispering? Was it because I was the new girl, and just hadn't noticed it before?

My heart dropped.

Did Taylor, Kelsi, Martha, Sharpay, Chad, or Eric spread a rumor about me? Or anyone else?

I would slaughter them if they had. Had they only been nice to me so they could lure me into a trap? Was this a play on me? Oh, God. I had been too easy. They knew I was lonely and helpless, so they aimed for me. They had won me, and now they were getting their fun.

I was feeling sick to my stomach. Tears brimmed my eyes as I quickly made my way through the crowded halls, absentmindedly shoving people aside and desperately seeking my next class. I held my breath, shoving the wooden door open and quickly taking my seat in the back of the classroom. Sharpay plopped down into her seat beside me seconds later, completely breathless and arranging her hair in different ways to hide a very visible hickey. After she succeeded, she sighed approvingly, her gaze traveling over the rowdy class and finally landing on me. She gasped almost instantly.

"God, Brie, are you okay?" she put a hand to her heart in concern.

I felt so nauseous. I was going to throw up. I knew I was. I couldn't take it anymore. Everywhere, at every school I'd been to, I'd been the freaky math girl. That girl you weren't supposed to talk to, because she had freaky germs. That girl you just left behind, left sitting alone in the corner reading her geometry textbook over again for fun. The girl you envied for getting straight A's, so you covered up the jealousy with harsh hatred and painful tormenting. I was that girl. I was that girl, considered to be insane for believing that learning was fun.

I didn't realize I had been panting. My forehead was hammering, giving me the most unbearable headache. I dazedly looked over at Sharpay, who was staring at me with alarm strummed in her eyes.

"Are you okay?" she demanded again, raising her eyebrows.

"Sharpay," I whispered, playing with my thumbs. "They were staring at me. Everybody." I paused, taking in a trembling, deep breath. "Everyone. Almost everyone at this school was staring at me as I walked down the hall. Shit, look, Shar, they're staring at me now!"

Indeed they were.

Sharpay whipped around to see the curious faces of the students glaring at me, analyzing me in a hauntingly similar way that Taylor, Chad, and Sharpay had been only the day before. Sharpay narrowed her eyes at them threateningly, and they quickly turned, switching their focus to the teacher who had just promenaded through the door. Sharpay bit her lip, thinking hard.

"Gabriella…" she started, unsure how to continue. So she sighed, her elbows hitting her desk and her face falling into her hands.

Was she hiding something from me? Like everyone else? Did this have to do with what Chad was so fretful about yesterday?

I suddenly felt very insecure around her, and I slouched down in my seat, almost hoping that I could just disappear magically.

"Brie," Sharpay began anew. "I really don't know. I wish I knew, but I don't. If I did, you know I would tell you."

She was lying. She was fucking lying through her perfect white teeth.

"Liar," I hissed, unable to control my boiling temper. I wasn't stupid. I knew something was going on. And did they really think they could hide it from me? Did they really think that just because I was the new girl, that they could get this past me? "You can't play me, Sharpay. I'm not going to allow it."

Sharpay sighed again, this time rubbing her temples vigorously. "Gabriella, you have to believe me. When I moved her from Tallahassee, everyone was staring at me too."

I cocked an eyebrow, not believing her unconvincing story. "Oh, really?" I challenged, rolling my eyes and preparing myself to hear the rest of her fib.

She nodded forcefully, as if trying to stress how honest she was being. "I swear it. People thought I was weird. You know, with my acting obsession and all. I don't know, maybe they were just not used to having such a rich person in town." She shrugged haughtily, bringing her fingers up and examining her newly manicured fingernails. They sparkled silver in the light, and she smiled in satisfaction at this.

"Oh, I never knew you moved," I played, knowing exactly were I was going with this. I smirked.

"Uh-huh," Sharpay nodded again. "Pre-k."

"Sharpay, that does not count for people staring at you!" I refrained from rolling my eyes. "But why are they staring at me?"

"Because you're new," Sharpay stated simply, as if that were the easy answer and it the most obvious thing.

"Emily Lachlan is new!" I whisper-yelled, as the teacher was speaking at the front of the room. I pointed to a petite blonde in the second row. "And no one's staring at _her_."

Sharpay froze at this, her face paling to white. "E-Emily? Oh, w-well…she used to live here but moved away for a year because her dad was transferred to Nepal."

I put my hands on my hips. "Oh, c'mon. Emily told me herself that she lived in Maine and had never moved in her life, let alone been this far west in the country."

Sharpay's jaw dropped to the floor, but she quickly shut it, suddenly sitting up very straight and furrowing her eyebrows. "Sorry, I guess I was thinking of Emily Sheppard." She laughed nervously, her voice shaking. She threw her hands out in expression, "Whoops."

I sighed, putting my head in my hands and trying my best not to cry through my frustration. I was really getting fed-up with Sharpay and her pathetic act. This was pitiful. She was supposed to be an actress! Gosh, I really didn't want to see her on stage.

"Sharpay! I'm serious. Just come clean now." Sharpay bit her lip anxiously, suddenly twirling around in her seat and facing the teacher. She whipped out her pink sparkly notebook before I could even snap at her, and began scribbling down notes with her pink feather pen. "_Sharpay_!" I whisper-yelled again, this time so angry I could feel hot steam emitting from my red ears. I rolled my eyes.

This was hopeless.

I was so lost, and so confused.

If Sharpay wouldn't break, then no one would.

I would have to continue what I had been doing all my life:

Wait.

* * *

"BOLTON!"

A sweaty, exhausted Troy swiveled around on his aching heels, shaking some of his matted hair away from his striking eyes to reveal a fuming Coach Berkerey.

This was not good.

Coach Berkerey was his coach here, and was the most impressible coach Troy had ever met. Nothing, absolutely nothing Troy did gratified him. Troy wouldn't admit it to anyone, but he was secretly afraid of Coach Berkerey. His small black eyes were intimidating, and seemed to make up for his plump, short figure. He only had a bit of hair left, and some of the braver guys had had the nerve to tease him about it. They had not ended up well.

Troy pressed his lips together anxiously, frightened of what might happen next. He began playing with his clammy fingers as he waited for Coach Berkerey to reach the spot he was planted. He could barely move, his feet seeming rooted into the floors of the new basketball court. Troy could feel more sweat forming on his wet forehead as Coach Berkerey finally approached him, his chin meeting his neck in a disapproving glare. He clucked his tongue, giving Troy an unsatisfied once-over before finally speaking in his hard, drawling voice, "Bolton."

Troy coughed into his fist timidly. "Yes…sir."

Coach Berkerey narrowed his beady eyes at the young senior, not liking what he saw or heard one bit. "Well?" the coach spat. "Don't you know why I'm speaking to you right now, even after session has ended and all the other boys are eating dinner?"

Troy sighed, knowing very well inside why.

He had _not _been up to his game recently. It was as if his touch was lost. As if he had forgotten everything he had learned in the past. There was just something that felt so wrong. So out of place. Something was missing. And what was there that he could do about it? The harder he tried, the harder he failed. It was almost like a routine. He felt like he growing weaker and weaker with each long, unbearable passing day. He could hardly remember why he had even signed up for this basketball boot camp in the first place.

Oh, right.

To miss school.

And sadly and surprisingly, he would rather be at school than there. Anywhere. Even at one of Ms. Darbus' boring, unuseful lectures.

"Yes, sir," Troy whispered, staring at the floor. He just couldn't bear to look in the coach's eyes. He hated disappointing people. And yet, he did time after time.

"Look at me when I am talking to you!" barked Coach Berkerey. Troy's head snapped up instantly, forcing him to look into the squinty black eyes, which resembled small black beetles. Coach Berkerey began rubbing his temples, trying to breathe through his uncontrollable frustration. "Bolton, we didn't take you for nothing. We know you are a kick-ass basketball star. So cough it up. Tell the truth. What's happened to you? What's on your mind, and what's preventing you from playing as well as you had? I want the truth, and _now_." Coach Berkerey put his hands firmly on his hips, waiting for Troy to give a reply.

"I'm sorry, sir," Troy tried to desperately please the coach, bending his head down in a sort of bow in apology. "I just feel homesick."

Coach Berkerey raised a dark, hairy eyebrow. That was only a sliver of the actual truth, and the middle-aged coach seemed to sense it somehow. The coach glared at him heatedly for a long time, breathing hard as he thought deeply of what to do. His chubby face was beaten bright red, his skin flushed to the color of raw meat. Troy just stood there, awkwardly, his sore feet anchored into the spotless court floor. After what seemed like hours to Troy, Coach Berkerey picked his head up and yelled frustratingly, "Just get out of my fucking sight, Bolton."

Troy hastily obeyed, breaking out into a run from the gleaming gym, and then morphing into an all-out sprint. He ignored the alarming pangs in his chest, his body screaming for him to breathe. He just kept going, his worn legs pounding against the ground as he raced across the enormous campus. He wasn't going to stop. The orange sun was just setting, hiding behind the horizon line and spraying the sky with enchanting shades of red and pink. The cool, biting wind slapped and nipped his skin, as if it were scolding the ridiculous ideas and plans that were forming and blossoming in his mind.

His desires had welded into his brain even more after the confrontation with the coach. He didn't want to be there. Out of all the places in the world, he shouldn't have been there. He knew where he needed to go, and he knew what he so urgently wanted.

Why was he still here then?

He should have done this so long ago, and he internally kicked himself for not doing so earlier.

The second he arrived at his dormitory, he tore open his suitcase. Everything, everything he could find that was his, he stuffed into the poor piece of luggage, barely caring if he forgot something. He felt exasperated, feeling a different side of him starting to take over. He couldn't believe he was actually doing this. For once, he was just going with his first instinct, his first yearning, not bothering to deem the consequences.

As he sped from the campus, he suddenly felt heavy weight being pulled off from his shoulders. As if the costume he was wearing had suddenly been ripped off. He felt liberated. Free as a bird. It was as if he were suffocating before, and now he could finally breathe fresh air.

He didn't stop running until he reached the bus stop.

Troy ran a nervous hand through his hair.

Everyone in the world just needs to do something out of range once in a while. And Troy hadn't been spontaneous in what seemed like forever. Just between everything that had happened to him—so suddenly, so out of the blue—it was as if he didn't have the time. He missed taking risks. Big or small. But then again, there were some risks he regretted with all his life, and he couldn't stop from smacking himself for his stupidity. A certain string of memories popped into his mind, but he knew that he couldn't think about that. It took time, but he finally forced all the saddening thoughts from his brain.

A loud whirring of a motor woke him from his deep thoughts, and his head shot up to see the awaiting bus.

_Here goes nothing_, he thought to himself quietly, picking up his suitcase. He dragged himself up the steps, but looked back before the thin doors closed behind him. He looked up at the navy blue blanket that now was the sky, sprinkled with what were called stars.

He needed to find his old self. He hadn't been himself in months. He knew everyone missed the old Troy, the happy, positive Troy who was the friendliest, most diligent guy you'd ever meet. But now…he wasn't even sure what he was.

He knew where to find the person he was looking for, just no idea how to get there.

What a hopeless journey this would be.

* * *

**A/N: Ooh Troy's running away!! :eek: **


	6. Gloomy Saturday

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A/N: Thanks so much for the reviews!

Thanks so much to FeJoy29 and JohnKrasinskiLover for helping me! Thanks for both of yours advice and thoughts, and JohnKrasinskiLover, just editting your wonderful story made me learn so much about mine. :D

**Disclaimer: I do not own Disney or any of these characters except the Wheatons, Alexa Daney, Mike Sanyor, Latishia Yu, Cadence Crawford, and Coach Berkerey. :D For now. **

* * *

This what I did early Saturday morning like this when the sky was a murky, sad gray and the clouds were heavy with awaiting rain.

Homework.

I stared down at the blank sheet of paper, my mind far too occupied to figure out my trig review problems. Instead of tangents and hypotenuses filling my head, all I could think of was Him. Again. As much as I knew I needed to forget him, I didn't want to. I just couldn't. Thoughts of Him flooded my mind, and instead of saddening memories, a different kind swamped my senses.

_"God, Gabi…" He moaned as my hands teasingly trailed up and down his muscular chest. My breath caught in my throat as his warm, rough but kind fingers closed around mine, arresting my movements. "Allow me," he breathed, turning us over on the bed so that I was on the bottom. His fingers lightly rubbed my bare arms, slowly raking up to my neck, which he began worshipping fully. He didn't miss a single spot, kissing down my collarbone and around my half-exposed chest, then traveling up my neck. Everywhere he touched felt electrifying, and I never wanted the amazing feel to go away. _

Okay…okay, _x _equaled thirty-two point four nine eight. Right?

I could barely concentrate as I began to feel all warm inside again, like how I used to when He was around me. I felt tingly just thinking about Him and His kisses. I could live off them. They were the sweetest, most delicate kisses I'd ever experienced. And even though I _was _rather _in_experienced, I knew they were the best kisses I'd ever taste.

And now, they were gone.

_"Baby…" I heaved out a strangled gasp, my heart jolting inside me as he ran his fingers over my pulsation below me. This only increased my arousal, as well as his, and I grinned cheekily as I slid my fingers over his growing bulge. His eyes widened and flickered, and I smirked, wrapping my arms around his neck and pulling him down to meet his soft lips with mine. At the same time, he tried unbuttoning my shirt, his fingers fumbling clumsily over the middle of my chest. He finally ripped my shirt open, and immediately began kissing across my bra and down my toned, flat stomach. I hastily whipped his own shirt off, repeating what he did to me, sucking on his perfect skin. He moaned harder and louder, so sexily, his fingers tangling themselves in my dark hair and pulling slightly with each mind-blowing kiss. _

Fuck…Gabriella, _stop _thinking about this! You are too old to be unable to control your thoughts…back to problem number one.

Triangle A. _X _equals thirty-two point four nine eight. Again? No, I'd already gotten that answer, and I knew it'd been wrong…

Just like I had been wrong to lie to Him.

_"Gabriella…" he panted, unable to think straight. He closed his amazing eyes, shielding me from the remarkable color. He moved his legs in a straddle, opening his eyes slowly, and quickly though gently unclasping my bra. He chucked that to the ground as well, his eyes not straying for a moment as he cupped my full breasts in his hands. He began fondling them, his massages making me moan so loud and uncontrollably that it didn't even sound like me. I didn't even know where these surprising sounds were coming from. I outlined his defined six-pack as he rubbed my own stomach, more sparks shooting through my limbs at the contact. He stared straight into my eyes, stilling his movements and smiling softly at me, his eyes looking incredibly erotic and spinning with love._

I felt so naughty and dirty reminiscing this, but I was nowhere near able to stop my unrated thoughts.

_"I love you," I whispered, my voice shaking. I ran my fingers through his tousled hair, smiling at him admiringly. _

_"I love you too, Gabi," he croaked, his own voice trembling as he leaned down and began kissing me fiercely all over again. His fingers hooked the top hem of my pants, and he quickly pulled them down and off, flinging it aside. My breathing hitched._

_Was this it? _

_I had been stalling this, and this could be the moment for me. _

I was already wet. I could feel the liquid seeping through my panties. But the thoughts felt so good… It felt so amazingly refreshing to relive the pleasure and the love. The pleasure, the love, and the life I had lost and was begging to have back.

_My eyes flickered up and down his muscular body, finally holding my breath and tearing off his own shorts. He was wearing navy blue boxers with white and red stripes. I rolled my eyes at this, snickering at his choice of underwear. He was so patriotic sometimes. Hunter rolled his eyes with me, trying to cover up his embarrassment as his cheeks flushed bright red, matching his stylish boxers. He cradled the base of my head, pushing my lips to meet his plump, rosy ones. He pressed his hard groin against me, rubbing his hardness up and down and making me moan like crazy. _

Knowing I wouldn't get any problems done anyway, I finally gave in to the inappropriate daydream, willingly escaping into the contented past.

_"Oh, God," he mumbled between pants against my lips. "You are so fucking sexy, Gabi…" _

_I writhed beneath him as his fingers crept down towards my soaking pink panties, and he sniggered at me playfully, my stomach flipping at the simple action. _

_Oh, God. _

_This _was _it. _

_My mind was racing with paranoia as he slowly slipped two fingers under the thin hem, and it all seemed to happen in slow motion. He pinched the fabric between his two fingers, carefully sliding the light material down—down, down, down…lower and lower. I felt my face heating with embarrassment. _

_This was final._

_What if he didn't like what he saw? _

_What if he got up and left? _

_But it was obvious that he thought otherwise as he smiled at me, finally fully removing the lacy garment and placing it aside. He stripped off his blue boxers as well, kicking them behind him. I simply stared at his manhood, not expecting it to be so large. Yet, at the same time, it looked so beautiful. _

_The aura of the room suddenly changed. I could see desire and want, sloshing together in his tantalizing eyes. They pierced mine, making me feel like the only thing in the room. _

_No words were spoken, but none were needed either in the breathtaking intensity of the silence. _

_He positioned his large, hard shaft at the entrance of my dripping wet mound. I could barely breathe at the lust that filled the air. He delved his hands into my hair, bringing his nose down to touch mine in the gentlest of Eskimo kisses. He began peppering kisses all over my lips, unable to get enough. The smooth pads of his thumbs ran over my ears softly, over my eyelids, over my swollen lips; everything. My chest surged with suspense and undeniable excitement with each chaste peck on my lips, growing more and more impatient to feel him inside of me._

_I had never felt this way before. I had never felt such strong passion brewing in my blood. _

_My heart rate was increasing and going out of control as I watched him breath above me, his eyes full and fresh with clear determination and love. _

_"Ella!" _

_I immediately pushed him off of me roughly, not being able to care at the moment. I hopped about the room like a mad pogo stick, searching crazily for my clothes and redressing as quickly as I could._

_"ELLA!" _

_I hurriedly shoved him under the bed, fixing my hair hastily and biting my lips before yanking open the door breathlessly. _

I hadn't known we would never get to finish what we had started that day. But if I had known, I would have ravished him until I was completely numb, despite my mother knocking against the door intolerantly.

Tears welded in my eyes, and I just couldn't stop them. Before everything could register, I was bawling into my math notebook, my salty tears staining the thin lined paper.

I couldn't get into my head any more than it was already.

It. Was. Not. Fair.

This needed to turn around. Everything. It was ungodly to be so miserable for so long. God needed to give everyone a chance. I had vowed to do my best on my newest chance, but apparently I had screwed that up. Everyone was staring at me. Like I was a freak show. Like I was invisible, and I couldn't hear their hurtful mockery. I had gone too long like this. I was snapping, and I was going to explode anytime soon. If I didn't get out and just let go, I knew I would let go under any circumstances later, without any control.

My breathing clogged as I realized what I was going to do. What I _had _to do. I needed to.

I was going to party until I forgot my own name.

I was going to drink until I couldn't even remember Him.

I was just going to…let go.

* * *

"CHAD!"

Sharpay hysterically came running into the messy bedroom, her platinum blonde hair disheveled and her clothes wrinkled slightly. Somewhat alarmed, Chad whirled around in the swivel desk chair, immediately wiping the bored expression off of his face.

"What, Shar?" he demanded edgily.

"It's Gabriella," Sharpay breathed, her face contorting in worry.

"Fuck."

"I know. She's figuring it out."

"She's too fucking smart for her own good."

"I know! I didn't know what to say…I—I really tried to divert her…"

"You didn't _tell_ her, did you?! We would be _slaughtered_, Sharpay, if she found out. _Butchered_. He's depending on us."

"I-I know! I _didn't _tell her…I swear. But she was really suspicious. She was pissed when I acted like I had no idea what she was talking about."

"And you're supposed to be an _actress_!" Chad hissed under his breath, straining himself not to roll his eyes in disbelief.

"What?" Sharpay looked up from examining her nails. "What did you say?"

"Nothing, nothing," Chad coughed to cover it up. "So…we just need to make sure she knows nothing until Troy comes back from basketball camp."

"Gee, Chad," Sharpay wasn't embarrassed at all to roll her eyes. "What a _brilliant _mastermind plan."

"What?" Chad huffed, crossing his arms across his chest defensively. "Do you have any better idea?"

"Not…yet," Sharpay mumbled irritably, plopping down onto Chad's unmade bed with disgust flustered in her eyes. "Just give me time."

"How much?"

"As long as I need, idiot."

"What was that for?!"

"For being yourself. Now, let's go to Taylor's to inform her to beware and step up the act. Maybe we're not being believable enough."

Chad's eyes popped out of his afrotastic head. He suddenly curled up in the desk chair, shrinking. He braced himself, fearing the worst from the drama queen.

"Oh, God. What did you do _now_ to that poor girl?" Sharpay sighed. "What did Taylor _ever_ do to you?"

"Nothing! I—just—we…we had a fight last night…" Chad muttered, trailing off incoherently.

"You guys aren't even worth the time or trouble," Sharpay rolled her eyes once more, springing up and refastening her hot pink raincoat. She peered out the foggy window, frowning at the strong, continuous rainfall. "Wish me luck."

"Luck."

"That's it, Chad. You only need to stop acting like an ass for a week. Once you've snapped the trap on her, you can be however fucking stupid you want."

"Shut the fuck up, Shar."

"Love ya'."

"You too."

* * *

Troy wrenched open the painfully familiar door, out of breath. His brain was revolving overdrive with overwhelming thoughts, but he still somehow managed to keep his objective in the front of his mind. He still knew what he wanted. What he was craving so badly.

His mesmerizing eyes scanned the house he knew so well, so crammed with memories it made his heart ache with longing from the power.

Maybe she was still here. Just maybe.

But somewhere buried in the back of his mind, he knew that was not the case. His mouth was filled with a bitter taste of agony from the inconvenient truth, and he raced up the wooden stairs, the old steps creaking in complaint. Troy called out her name desperately, hopeful to hear her voice again.

Nothing.

He continued to holler her name, the urgency and striking need in his own voice scaring him. He sped around to every room in the small house, not willing to believe it was abandoned. He yanked open every door, analyzed every room, called her by every name he had ever known—and yet…nothing.

His heavy, hopeless breathing echoed hauntingly through the empty, worn home. He could hear his own frantic heart beating loudly, rising in his eardrums and racking his brain endlessly.

He didn't want to admit it. But he knew.

She wasn't here.

And Troy needed to get out of there before he exploded.

The déjà vu was all too much, and sprinted away from the battered house as quickly as he came. He ran down the familiar block, and he noticed some of the neighbors had recognized him, for they raised their heads from their gardens and newspapers to stare at the outlier of a boy. A boy, who'd been once a constant visitor, but who hadn't come in months. Troy ignored this, pummeling himself further down the sidewalk.

Everything was just too much.

He collapsed onto a wooden park bench, the splinters piercing him through his mesh shorts, but he didn't care. He flipped open his cell phone, dialing so fast that his fingers hurt.

"Mom?" he breathed anxiously into the mouthpiece, waiting for the warm, caring voice he knew so well to comfort him. Nothing. "Mom?" the restless boy asked again in impatience, worries swarming his thoughts. Troy suddenly felt so small and so vulnerable, like the little boy he used to be, overshadowed by his accomplished and highly praised older brother. But Henry was in the army now, and there was no one to compete with except himself. Yet, that seemed to be a challenge of increased difficulty.

Troy waited for what seemed like an hour, not caring that his very needed and treasured minutes were wasting away before him. His mother mattered more.

Nothing.

Troy finally shut his phone, reluctant and helpless.

Though he hadn't found himself or heard from his mother, he knew what his next move was.

And he was going for it.


	7. Letting Go

****

A/N: I could probably go on and on with excuses of the lateness, but I swear over my dead body that I had writer's block. I knew what I was going to do, I just didn't know how to write it. God, I was so irritated. :( Anyway, I'm not completely satisfied with this, so tell me how it is.

**Disclaimer: I do not own Disney or any of these characters except mine. The list is beginning to become too long to name. **

* * *

Troy Bolton had sides.

Troy Bolton, like everyone else, acted as purely innocent as an angel at some times, and acted as betrayingly evil as a devil at others.

But Troy Bolton, unlike everyone else, had real, definitive sides. Personalities. However you want to put it. And, these strict personalities, sides—different Troys—were all part of him. Somewhere; either deep down inside him or skimming right on the surface.

What triggered them? What set them off and caused them to be so uncontrollable?

Places.

Just being somewhere, mostly places that meant much and were close to his heart, changed Troy Bolton. And. Nothing. Else. That was a well-known fact in that complex head of his. He couldn't manage or direct those bursting, different people—it was too many people against one broken, weak heart, aching with every tired, strained beat.

And on that chilly, grim Saturday night, it was no different.

Troy, deep inside, did not like this Troy, there in New Mexico. But it just came naturally and unstoppably with the environment, territory, and atmosphere—boom. Rebel, selfish Troy was born. Maybe it was the desperate need to fill the boring, almost painful innocence and tranquility of the area. Maybe it was his controlling, narrow-minded father who strived to make his rowdy son the ideal one of perfection he always had yearned for. Maybe it was the fact that his mother was too far away to keep him in line and care for him. Troy didn't know. He didn't exactly want to either, but he knew he needed to find out to stop the New Mexico Troy.

To anyone who didn't know better, Troy appeared as if he had just gulped down several pots of coffee and hadn't slept in days. His rough hands were trembling on the leather-covered driving wheel, his weary, discolored eyes absentmindedly gazing out at the dull, grave sky, about to explode with ice-water droplets any second. Troy simply pressed his pale lips into a thin, serious line.

Just one time.

He just needed to forget and recharge. Just do what he wanted. One time. And then he would start over. Then he would continue his lengthy, coarse journey to discovering the Troy he permanently wanted to be. He was sick of the different Troys. For now, he knew he would have to deal with them. But later, he hoped he wouldn't have to.

Chad didn't know he had arrived yet. Neither did Sharpay. Nor Taylor. Or anyone. Troy didn't want them to know. They couldn't. They'd ruin everything, and as rude as it sounded, it only seemed truer. Troy felt awkward; somewhat like a ghost in a vaguely familiar place. A place he used to fondly call his home. He felt out of place in that new world. And that's what it was. At least, it seemed that way. Like it was a whole different world. A separate universe, galaxy.

Troy had _definitely _been gone too long.

Troy thought he knew this place. And he used to. He used to know the whole state like all the players on the Los Angeles Lakers basketball team. But that had unexpectedly changed, and Troy was rather…intimidated. The rather empty roads felt like they were merely from a dream he had too often.

Troy swallowed hoarsely, tapping his fingers against the wheel as he waited for the red light to shine green.

_Just one night_, he thought to himself. _For after all, you can't be seventeen forever._

* * *

_It's like I waited my whole life for this one night_

_It's gon' be me, you, and the dance floor_

_'Cause we only got one night_

_Double your pleasure, double your fun _

Chris Brown blared loudly all over the amplified speakers, so deafeningly that I could feel my eardrums pounding, only resulting in excruciating annoyance. My heart was hammering in my chest so impatiently that I felt nauseous.

I couldn't do this. I just couldn't bring myself to let go like this. I wanted to. I really did; but when I got to the point, it just wasn't that easy.

I was lingering near the kitchen, where the large array of beverages was displayed openly across the table. I checked each drink—every single one was alcoholic. Even the bright red punch was spiked. I could smell the intoxicating fumes, so strong that it gave me a headache. Teenagers were swallowing and chugging down the alcohol as if it were water, taking more and more and more. They were forcing the poisoning liquid into their systems, not even realizing the harms it could cause them, in the near or distant future. I didn't understand how they could keep going, one drink after another. I'd only had one sip of beer my entire life, and I never went back. Just the bitter taste and the swarming thoughts of the alcohol's ills made me sick alone.

I felt stupid, just standing there awkwardly, wallowing around in the kitchen, my eyes darting around, looking for signs of danger. Even though it was packed with drunken high schoolers, half of them unable to stand up straight, I was intimidated. I was scared. I felt so out of place. Like I didn't belong there. I didn't even know anyone.

I had driven for about two hours. Yes, two hours. I had looked for the biggest house party I could find, that was also far. I didn't want to know anyone. That would ruin the whole point. I didn't want to be surrounded by people who would only tease me the day later; I just wanted strangers and to get wasted. I didn't have the nerve. And apparently, most of these kids went to a high school called Cedarvale High School. I'd never so much as heard of it. I didn't even know the kid whose party it was. Just some kid named…Justin Wagenbach. Either way, his house was _huge_. Bigger than Preppy's. It appears that he was filthy rich. Well, I mean, go figure.

The whole feel of the party felt dirty. Wrong. Disgusting. I just couldn't help but feel guilty.

Dazed teens were tumbling about, tripping over their own two feet, half-full and half-empty beer bottles clutched in their hands, and leaving a strong stench of alcohol behind them. Their "dancing" was a pathetic excuse for shameless grinding, and they all did spontaneously against each other; against random people they didn't even know. The crowded dance floor was primarily the enormous living room, which had been cleared of its couches, but there were people "dancing" all over the elegant mansion. The dark, almost pitch-black rooms were dimmed with mysterious shadows, only barely illuminated by the blindingly bright neon lights of the deejay's supply.

"H-Hey, huh…hot s-stuff."

I whipped around, my heart beating wildly in alarm at the slurring voice, unsurprised to see it was a clearly drunken man. His hair was wildly disheveled and there were sagging purple bags under his beady, unfocused eyes. His head was lolling around on his neck, as if he had no control over it. The rather buff senior was leaning on the counter for support, taking a quick mouthful of the beer clenched in his calloused hand.

"W-Want m-meh tuh…t-to…uh…d-do yuh…y-you?" he forcibly stammered, choking on the alcohol that was still pooled in his mouth. The beer spilled as drool and spit slid from his mouth, dripping in rivers down his shirt. Immediately, I inched away, my stomach rumbling in terror.

That guy was dangerous. At least, he looked it. What if I had gotten drunk too, and he'd gotten his hands on me? What if he had raped me? What if we had sex and he got me pregnant? He looked pretty strong and muscular. What if he abused me? What if I got severely hurt from that? What if…what if…? And the questions just went on and on, infinitely.

_No, Gabriella_, my inner voice fought. _That doesn't matter, and the chances of that happening are, um, low. So. Just. Let. Go. _

I straightened out my beige Abercrombie & Fitch sweater anxiously, picking off some lint that had adhered. It was a surprisingly chilly night, so I had reluctantly resided to long corduroy pants and a light, long-sleeved sweater, the kind that was a thick band of material across your breasts and then had the bottom flowing freely.

I pressed my lips together, surveying the full counter of alcoholic drinks and inhaling deeply. There was everything from expensive wines, to frosty imported beers, to ingredients for a cocktail. I was going to do it, and I couldn't go back after I did this. I closed my eyes hesitantly, reaching my hand out and randomly selecting. I blinked open my eyes to find myself face to face with the logo of a Budweiser. Drawing in a deep breath, I slowly screwed open the cap, my hands shaking uncontrollably, deciding to dive in right away and swigging down a taste of the amber liquid.

It.

Tasted.

Terrible.

I couldn't even correctly describe the bitterness; so strong it was like drinking my own sour tear-filled life. I reflexively dropped the beer bottle, the glass shattering all over the floor and the foamy solution splattering all over the tiled kitchen floor. I immediately ran, my hand enclosed tightly over my mouth and my throat about to close up, searching for the nearest bathroom. Thank God the first one I found was empty. I violently kicked open the door, throwing myself in urgency at the spotlessly white sink and gagging, spitting out every drop of the beer.

I was never trying alcohol again.

Period.

So what was next then? My plan was destroyed. There was still the "dancing" left—and so wiping my mouth thoroughly (and gargling water a few times), I tentatively ventured to the main dance floor, my bones shuddering. I was demoralized, and so pathetically scared. I felt five years old, idling near the doorway shyly and staring out at the condensed mass of people that seemed to move as one against the heavy beat of the loud music. My eyes flurried shut briefly as I tried to ready myself, finally taking the stab and suddenly squeezing between the people, meddling myself into the center of the clutter.

It was easier once I began. I hadn't danced in so long that instead of feeling odd, it felt amazingly refreshing to dance again. I just moved naturally, so easily and swiftly with the steady rhythm of the music, which was so earsplittingly loud that I could feel the walls quaking.

_You are young and so am I_

_And this is wrong, but who am I to judge? _

_You feel like heaven when we touch_

_I guess for me this is enough _

I could feel my skin growing hot, quickly beginning to boil under my thin sweater and making my forehead sweat a little. But I continued dancing, completely determined. I was going to do whatever I wanted tonight. There were no rules. There weren't. Right?

Yet, I was still convulsing pitifully inside.

For God's sake, I was seventeen. Why was I so scared? I was just going to let go. No boundaries. No limits. Just freedom.

_We're one mistake from being together_

_But let's not ask why it's not right_

_You won't be seventeen forever _

_And we can get away with this tonight_

Metro Station was right. I _wasn't _going to be seventeen forever. Only more of a reason to keep dancing—more of a reason to get wasted and get laid. I was going to be eighteen in December. That gave me roughly two or three months of seventeen-year-old me. I just needed to forget. I needed to just move and do and feel, not think or worry. I needed to clear my head. Then I would figure out my next step.

I took in a deep breath, only to end up coughing, as the air was contaminated with thick smoke and gray fog. There seemed to be a layer of darkness on everything.

_You are young and I am scared_

_You're wise beyond your years but I don't care_

_And I can feel your heartbeat_

_You know exactly where to take me_

I suddenly felt two strong, muscular arms wrap around my waist.

I almost screamed.

It was that horny drunken guy I'd encountered before. I knew it was.

I could feel my heart jolting in nervousness, my eyes widening in sudden fright.

_Calm down, Gabriella, _I thought to myself, desperately trying to catch my breath. _Just go with it. Just dance with him. You can escape later._

So I began swaying my hips invitingly and licking my lips to allure him. I could feel his eyes transfixed hypnotically on the back of my head. I smiled slyly to myself, almost proud. I ran my own fingers through my dark curls, trying my ultimate best to look sexy. I smirked when I felt his deeply focused eyes still plastered to me in a hazy daze.

_We're one mistake from being together_

_But let's not ask why it's not right_

_You won't be seventeen forever _

_And we can get away with this tonight_

Suddenly, I felt large, rigid hands grip my waist firmly, yanking me against their sturdy chest.

I gasped aloud from the surprise, and I felt him grinning mischievously at my realization.

Oh, God.

_Ooh ooh, ooh ooh _

_Ooh ooh, ooh ooh _

And before I could wrench away, his skillful fingers had pushed up my thin sweater a mere inch, the pads of his thumbs rubbing soothing circles on my hipbones. My breath caught in my throat as unpredicted sparks shot through my body, alarming me and making my eyes enlarge tremendously. I couldn't help but lean back into his chiseled form, despite the logical part of me screaming otherwise in my mind. His arms enveloped around me, and we continued to move together, his hips rolling up and pushing against my ass. I could feel his hot and heavy breath on my neck, misting not only my skin but my sight too. My eyes fluttered close at the amazing feeling, my stomach doing wild somersaults when his moist lips brushed against my shoulder. His busy mouth ventured up to my awaiting neck in a series of sucking, licking, and kissing, and by the time he reached the spot near my ear, I was willingly melting into his open arms.

_Will you remember me? _

_You ask me as I leave_

_Remember what I said? _

_Oh, how could I, oh, how could I forget? _

I hadn't done this in so long, felt this in so long. It felt reviving to have someone's lips on me so intimately like that. His anxious hands delved into my thick hair, pulling me closer with immense need against his solid figure. His hands didn't stop for a single second, traveling to my taught stomach under my top, stroking it with the gentlest touch I had ever felt. My stomach muscles contracted uncontrollably with each tantalizing moment of contact, my aching heart lifting at the tenderness that enhancedthe air.

_Gabriella, _the practical side of me warned, _Leave before he kisses you. Then you know you won't be able to stay away. _

I knew it was so true. But I just couldn't haul myself away. It increased to seem impossible as his eager hand played with the hem of my pants, finally digging itself in between my tight corduroys and my perspired skin. I felt my throat begin to seal threateningly as he fingered the lacy fabric of my panties tauntingly, and colors blurred my vision as he rubbed my skin in a surprisingly soft manner. A moan escaped from the back of my throat, irrepressible and not enough to express the enticing feeling he was evoking inside me. My thin sweater seemed thick as the heightening heat of the room augmented enormously, my sweaty forehead as drenched as my panties.

_We're one mistake from being together_

_But let's not ask why it's not right_

_You won't be seventeen forever _

_And we can get away with this tonight_

The disco dance music poured into my ears, supplying my system with energy. I declined back into his hard chest, unable to hide my knowing grin at the poking I felt on my ass. I wrapped a slender arm around his neck, sighing aloud as he resumed sucking on that spot near my ear. My knees wobbled weakly, but a steady arm caught them just as they gave way. He sniggered against my ear, dropping a chaste kiss to it and causing my heart to thrash around frantically. He scooped me up in his tough arms easily, as if I were merely a light doll. He whipped me around, setting me back onto my feet once more, keeping an arm around my waist for support.

_We're one mistake from being together_

_But let's not ask why it's not right_

_You won't be seventeen forever _

_And we can get away with this tonight_

My head finally inclined up to glance at his face, and I almost died from shock as our eyes met. My fascinated gaze just wouldn't rip away no matter how hard I tried. It was hopeless. His sapphire eyes were electrifying, and they seemed to suddenly cause everything in my body to awaken, all at once. I could feel tension building in my chest, trapped between the bars of my rib cage and making me feel like I was going to blow up. His luminous cobalt eyes creased as he grinned, in somewhat of a knowing, sexy way, and before I knew it his hand had dove into my flourishing, heavy hair, running his fingers through it and caressing the base of my head. I just stared at him, deeply entranced, my eyes searching his own mystifying ones in awe.

_We're one mistake from being together_

_But let's not ask why it's not right_

_You won't be seventeen forever _

_And we can get away with this tonight_

Without a wait, he had pushed my sweaty forehead to meet his, and he pasted a kiss onto my nose, my insides having a party at just the sheer feeling of our skin touching one another's. He began peppering rough kisses all over my face; on my forehead, my cheeks, my eyelids, my chin…. He didn't hesitate as he reached my lips, placing his larger pink ones on my smaller ones. He tugged at my bottom lip, smirking into the kiss, then attacking my lips hungrily. I couldn't resist looping my arms around his neck and pulling him lusciously closer, ignoring the scolding in the back of the logical part of my cerebellum. His hands eagerly pressed my small body even closer to his, my plump breasts creating delicious friction against his sculpted chest.

The chorus of the song rang in my ears, over and over, like a broken record. One mistake, one careless accident, could be a permanent burden. Maybe I could get away this tonight. And maybe I couldn't.

_Ooh ooh, ooh ooh_

_Ooh ooh, ooh ooh_

My arousal was escalating with each breath I took, each breath he took. The pulsation in between my legs grew closer together and closer to unbearable with each desperate kiss and each attempt to press our bodies closer. All my morals were completely numbed by now, and I gave in even further. We couldn't even qualify as dancing anymore. He seemed to recognize this, his flawlessly gratifying mouth curving into a cheeky smile against my lips. He made a quick move to pull away, but I just wouldn't let him, vehemently shoving his head down to capture mine. I didn't know what had come over me, but I wanted him and I was sure of it. I just felt that burgeoning need, that vitality to have him, right then and there. Nothing else mattered.

_Ooh ooh, ooh ooh_

_Ooh ooh, ooh ooh _

He finally yanked his lips away, though reluctantly, his mesmerizing eyes boring into mine as he leaned in and whispered in my ear, his hot breath tickling me, "Haven't seen you in a while." I shivered at his playful yet grimly frightening voice, so unfamiliar from what I remembered. He nibbled on my ear teasingly before adding with a heart-tugging leer on his face, "Nice to you see you again, Gabriella."

He reattached our lips instantly before I could respond, a new sense of lascivious yearning and lustful need surging through both of our bodies, though he seemed more enthusiastic and eager than I. He cupped my buttocks, pushing up and signaling to me to wrap my legs around his waist, and I ardently obeyed. Suddenly, he was quickly shoving and pushing his way through the dense pack of people, not once my tongue leaving from its home in his warm mouth.

Before I could register where we were, he had slammed me impatiently against the nearest wall, his lips ravishing my neck in crucial necessity. My hot skin was burning, completely on fire from the erotic feel of his skin and lips on me. I could feel sweat trickling down my forehead, but I barely cared at the intolerable heat, as the throbbing below me grew stronger and more unendurable. I couldn't suppress my moans at the feel of him, his pelvis grinding against mine. My hair was tangled all about, and I grinned as I glimpsed his beautiful brown hair, also tousled and all over the place, but still gorgeous as ever. Our heavy breathing was the only thing I could hear, the exotic, beautiful sound filling my ears and drowning out the blaring music in the background.

"God, I need you," he grunted against my now almost fully exposed chest. He had drawn my the front of my sweater very low, so low I couldn't help but feel self-conscious. I managed to nullify the feelings, trying to not think about that and just focus on him. "What you do to me. You don't even know," he panted heavily.

Where all one-night stands this good?

Because how would I know?

He gave my butt a breezy squeeze, his hands floating under my sweater and scanning the region of my bra. I gasped out in what was converted into a strangled moan, grabbing a fistful of his damp hair and pulling with each centimeter higher he voyaged.

Was I supposed to feel those unmoving butterflies in my stomach, twittering around like mad? He attacked my lips ferociously, my nose rubbing against and making vibrations trail down my spine. I couldn't see anything else but him and his beautiful face. Those amazing eyes, that gorgeous hair, that perfectly formed nose, and those prized lips. The feeling of having someone so breathtakingly close was a fact I tried to embrace, and I tightened my legs around his waist, forcing him closer.

Was I supposed to feel so…invigoratingly alive? My senses were completely blazing, so energetic and active that it made me dizzy. I felt his humid skin, smelled his riveting cologne, heard his desperate breathing, saw his perfect enthralling body, and tasted his delectable, unique mouth. Was I supposed to feel so precious, so real? I had never felt so cherished or so exhilarated. The undeniable charge surging in me kept me going; kept my hands running all over him and my lips assailing his. Was it normal for him to be the only thing I could think about? I just wanted him, and him to be inside me. All other thoughts were squashed and thrown carelessly aside. Was it normal for my brain to be so foggy? Hot, sexy, want, want, want, lips, eyes, blue, hair, brown, chin, neck, skin, skin, skin, breathe…breathe…breathe… I could barely think straight. Nothing was making sense. Nothing needed to. And for once, I was relieved.

Was he feeling the same way?

The central question took longer to evaporate from my mind.

The lust pulsing in my veins felt so achingly familiar. The static feeling was so memorable and recognizable that it hurt. The fierce intensity that intoxicated the hefty atmosphere stretched to agonizing, and the drained organ that was my heart deeming of giving up.

He lifted me up suddenly, levitating me above the ground by my armpits as if I were a baby. He hastily searched for an empty room, pummeling down the long, shadowed hallways. He finally kicked open the door to one of the smaller bedrooms at the end of the hall, thankfully vacant and the bed still luckily made. He banged the door closed just as quickly with his knee, plopping me onto the bed hastily and collapsing on top of me. I grimaced at the immense body weight, though continued the kiss him.

This was not the man I remembered. No, he was acting like a foolish, immature teenage boy, and to think his eighteenth birthday was not far away. I internally frowned, deciding to dwell on the shameful truth later, gasping out at he began licking my sticky neck.

The room was filled with steam, pasting itself to my skin. It was so horrendously hot. My face was boiling as if I had a fever. I whipped off my sweater and shirt underneath, and he tore off his own T-shirt, his eyes widening at the sight of my breasts only held captive by my bra. He dove down immediately, lavishing every inch of uncovered skin on my chest, effortlessly unclasping my bra and chucking it behind him. It took everything I had in me not to cross my arms over my chest. Instead, I busied myself my outlining his distinct six-pack, smirking to myself when satisfied moans emitted from his mouth.

"I need you," he huffed, gaping for oxygen. He fingered some strands of my moist, dark hair, staring enchantingly into my eyes. "Fuck, I need you now."

I simply nodded, tears brimming my eyes out of the blue at the blunt confession. I felt so used, but I knew that was what one-night stands were in a nutshell. As he began paving a path of kisses down my bare chest and stomach, I shook my head vigorously, trying to rid the tears that were more than ready to spill. Why was I acting this way? This was only a one-time thing. Sure it was stupid, but I just needed to the release. My stomach was flipping with every kiss, every suck, every lick, every brush…every tempting touch. Was it because I was so desperate?

The faint, white glow of the moon shone through the window, casting a vague spotlight on the bed and our bodies. He ripped away his own pants, not daring to waste any time. He unbuttoned my tight corduroys, hastily dragging them off my legs in a rough manner and pecking kisses all over my legs. I forced his boxers off, my breath arresting at the sight of his fully aroused penis, sticking up proudly. His eyes flickered up to meet mine, and he grinned naughtily, as if he knew something I didn't, snatching my wrists and pinning them to my sides. He tore open a condom package, rolling the rubber on as fast as he could and positioning himself at my entrance. He slipped off my panties, not even asking and suddenly plunging his stone-hard manhood inside me.

I immediately groaned, my head stiffly falling back against the pillow and my eyes shutting reflexively at the pain. Tears welled in my eyes as he instantaneously began moving, rocking above me. I winced, though tried to cover it up, almost fainting when his lips covered mine. I could hardly move. Gradually, very gradually, the pain slowly morphed into pleasure, which began building and building up, faster and faster. Sweat dripped down his back, and I latched my hands onto his slippery shoulders, my fingernails digging into his sticky skin. I brought my upper body up as I clung to him, feeling the pressure nearing and ready to burst. He was moaning in my ear, nipping it with his lips as he continued thrusting into me. He pushed me back onto the bed in one brisk motion; grabbing my legs, bending them at the knees, and pressing them against my chest so he had easier quicker access. His blows were beginning to become almost too intense—I could barely breathe. The fireworks erupting in the room were something I'd never felt before, unforeseen but amazing. His fingers trailed up and down my shivering arms, making my chest feel clogged with exasperation. I wove my legs around his waist, using it as an anchor to pull my body even higher, my full breasts smushing against his concrete chest.

As I neared my orgasm, my nails sunk into him deeper. I didn't even have the energy to do anything else. I felt my thighs tighten, and suddenly, I burst with a last thrust, moaning uncontrollably through pursed lips and clenching onto him tighter. I felt his hand on the back of my head, pressing my face into the sweaty crook of his neck as he met his peak with me, and I squeezed his shoulders as I braced myself. I crumpled back against the bed, utterly exhausted, my chest moving up and down unstoppably. I had never done so much exercise in my life at once, sad to say.

Our straggled breathing echoed through the otherwise quiet, still room, the violent music from downstairs faint and in the back of our minds.

I couldn't believe what I'd just done. It seemed surreal. I wasn't even sure what was happening; I wasn't even conscious, was I? Was this just a dream, a fantasy? But I didn't want it to go away. I wanted to wade in the fairytales, elude from reality for just the second I could. And I had succeeded, for the first time in a long time in anything.

The dark skies were still a solemn gray outside, the sullen clouds blending themselves with the cold and stirring up rain for the grand downpour. The window next to the bed was wide open, a cool gust of icy winter wind chilling the room and making me shiver, the beads of sweat on my skin beginning to dry. The moon was sneaking behind the gloomy clouds, hiding in refuge from the sharp rain that was soon to flood the earth.

My hands were absentmindedly threading themselves through his matted hair, his head having dropped lazily in the middle of my stomach. He suddenly sat up, straddling me, and my mouth dropped open in surprise. But he didn't do anything.

He simply stared.

He gazed right at me, in a sort of dazed, observant way. Not really dreamy. Just thinking, really hard and dangerously deep. I could almost see the thoughts grazing in his mind.

And suddenly, shocking me, most pathetically, he started to cry.

* * *

**A/N: Um, so yeah. I lied. I was going to explain everything this chapter, but then it would have been too long. Sorry! God, I bet everyone hates me to death right now... :( **

**Disclaimer: I do not own Forever by Chris Brown or Seventeen Forever by Metro Station. I don't own Budweiser either or Abercrombie & Fitch. **


	8. Not Over Anything

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A/N: Thanks so much to FeJoy29 and JohnKrasinskiLover again for your input and advice!

**Disclaimer: I do not own Disney or any of these characters except mine. The list is beginning to become too long to name. **

* * *

I didn't know what to do.

I just…stared at him.

Somewhat like he had stared at me, though less in thought and more in shock. My face was blank and read expressionless. It was just so surreal. Like I was in a dream, and if I pinched myself, I would wake up and everything would be normal again. My mom would be making brunch downstairs, the strong pancake aroma wafting up to my room and spoiling my nostrils with her secret recipe. She would be singing along to the radio, like she used to, her melodic voice thin and fragile but lovely all the same. My father would be reading the paper intently, lounging in a kitchen chair and giving my mom kisses here and there, sometimes joining in humming if a song he liked came along. But then he left. And then the old Gabriella left me. And I was nothing. I was so vulnerable. So powerless that I fell hopelessly in love. And I was so stupid. I thought I knew him, when maybe it was all a lie.

Who was this guy? He was certainly not the man I had fallen in love with. I was so dreadfully confused that I began to feel panging in my forehead.

"God," he mumbled between piteous sobs against my skin. He had collapsed back on top of me, his head resting in between my breasts. My hands had dropped at my sides lazily, not taking anything in. Not feeling, not thinking…but there. Just there. I just felt anesthetized. So dumbfounded. Warm, fresh tears cascaded down his face and blended with the beads of sweat on my sticky skin. And I merely stared out the window, numb and honestly scared to death inside, gazing out absentmindedly at the grave sky, my eyes unfocused and lost. Just like my discouraged heart, empty of hope. "Help me, Gabi," he murmured, my skin vibrating in the cold from his desperate voice. He seemed so distressed and worn, but I just couldn't fall into him. I couldn't allow myself.

"Please get off of me," I whispered, straining myself to stay patient and staring aimlessly at the ceiling. "Just…please." My voice was shaking, frightening myself. I felt him breathing against my skin, the hot air making me shiver amidst the freeze rushing in through the open window. He finally slowly sat up, sitting on me in a straddle again. Unable to take it, I rolled my eyes, roughly pushing him off of me by the chest, grimacing at the sudden loss of warmth and contact. He stumbled back off the bed, throwing the drenched condom in the trash, and composing himself once more. I gulped at the complete sight of his fully nude body, using all the power I had to yank my eyes away from the stunning scene.

"What was that?" he whispered tentatively, his tone displaying he was obviously hurt by the action.

"Just—" I stammered in frustration, my hands clenching into fists automatically. "Please. Just leave. You're only making it harder for me."

"Baby—" he choked desperately, his sweaty face softening touchingly. I shook my head.

"—_Don't_ call me that," I spat angrily, snatching the bed covers and pulling them up over my breasts. He looked extremely offended, and I watched in tension as he tried to keep his fuming under control.

I wasn't going to cave. There was no way he was going to get away with that. I just couldn't let him. I couldn't believe he would do this to me. But he had.

I tightened the blankets around me, feeling self-conscious and hoping to block the chill. It wasn't really working. I shrunk down on the bed as I saw him pace the room, his eyes darkening in deep thought.

"Why'd you lie to me, Hunter?" I whispered quietly, my voice trembling uncontrollably as I was so awfully nervous. He flinched at the name, pausing midway to slip on his red Hollister T-shirt. He finally simply sighed, his beautiful blue eyes fluttering closed for a moment in a way to calm himself. He ran his fingers through his gorgeous brown hair, rubbing the back of his neck uneasily as he began searching for his clothes, scattered wildly about the room. "You said you were moving to Nevada."

"I wasn't lying," he muttered in that smooth, level voice of his as he slid on his plaid boxers. "I did live in Nevada. But then I moved again."

"You could have told me," I whispered dejectedly, a knife stabbing at my chest with every sour word. I shuddered as a fresh gust of wind scurried into the room through the window, only making me scrunch up even smaller on the bed. "You never once bothered to talk with me."

"I couldn't bring myself to," he whispered, soughing as he collapsed tiredly onto a white pillow-adorned bench near the window. He dropped his head in his hands in exhaustion, rubbing his hands vigorously all over his face, giving special attention to his temples. "I knew I would break." His breathing became terrifyingly irregular. "As much as I wanted to hear your voice…I didn't want to hear it sad."

"You could have made it all better," I interjected coldly, my face suddenly hardening to stone. I was angry, and I couldn't help myself. I had been holding this in for too long, and now I was just exploding, out of my power to stop myself. All he was was a coward inside. "If you cared enough for me, you would've called anyway." I lowered my voice to a weak whisper, my voice cracking feebly. "You would've known I would have wanted to hear your voice; sad, mad, bad, or glad. Anything. I would have taken anything, any emotion, given anything. You would have done it for me. You wouldn't have cared that _you _didn't want to hear my voice—"

"—I _did _want to hear your voice!"

"IF YOU _REALLY _WANTED TO, YOU WOULD HAVE CALLED, NO MATTER FUCKING WHAT!" I was panting, my chest heaving up and down crazily.

He suddenly picked his head up from his hands, his cobalt eyes open wide at my unexpected, out-of-character outburst.

"I couldn't," he murmured gravely, shaking his head. "I just…couldn't."

My eyes were spinning intensely, burning holes through his yet unquestionably perfect image. My veins were flaming with what I called rage. I gritted my teeth together, my eyes spiraling madly with fury. What the fuck was wrong with this guy? I lifted my upper body up, sitting on my haunches, my arms behind me for support. The blanket suddenly sagged down to my stomach, but I quickly pulled it back up, praying he hadn't seen anything.

"You're just a coward," I hissed frigidly, curling the bed sheet material in my fist furiously. "And I was so vulnerable that I let myself fall in love with an asshole like you."

"So you admit it's your fault," he grunted, slapping his hands to his kneecaps as he stood and began to pace the room again. My eyes followed his anxiously moving form; back and forth, back and forth…I almost became dizzy.

"No, it's not my fault," I snapped. "It's yours. You _knew _I was so innocent and defenseless. You _knew _it, and you abused that fact. You tricked me. You fucking set it all up." My unbalanced breathing was erratic and dangerously unsteady, my drained head bobbing up and down slightly as I fought to catch my breath.

"It was never a set up," he gulped hoarsely, staring straight at the hardwood floor out of nervousness. "I always loved you."

I couldn't believe how ridiculous his answers were. How unbelievable and cheap and cheesy they were. Did he _really _think I would believe that shit? Did he really think _anyone _would? He knew whom he was dealing with. He knew me better than anyone else. Or did he?

"Cut the crap," I seethed. "Are you just on drugs or something? Where's the Hunter I loved?"

He cringed at the name again, arresting his frantic pacing merely to breathe. I watched, entranced—in awe, though I wouldn't admit it—as he tried to relax himself, shutting his eyes gently as he thought carefully.

"We're both at fault here, Gabriella." The way my name poured so smoothly from his mouth made me realize how much he cherished it. His mesmerizing sapphire eyes were practically glistening through every syllable. My heart lifted at this, but sunk at his next words, "You lied too."

"I didn't—"

"—Don't even try," he interrupted immediately, and I was surprised by his sudden anger and confidence etched on his face and strung in his voice. The confidence he slopped on may not have been real, but at least it looked it. His facial features had also suddenly turned to stone, almost as if in competition to beat my anger. "Don't even fucking give a go. You could have searched for me. You lied and you said you were experienced."

"I _did not _do—"

"—YOU HAVE FUCKING GOT TO BE KIDDING ME! There was blood all over the condom! And the bed sheets are completely stained. You were grimacing in the beginning. Shit, there were tears in your eyes. You can't sell me that, Gabriella."

I felt my cheeks sweltering with agonizing embarrassment, and I inched down the covers below me to spot a wet splotch of red on the white sheet between my legs. I bit my lip, blinking a few times before answering in a small, tryingly innocent voice, "You fucked me."

"And if I had known the truth, that _you were a virgin_, I wouldn't have. I just needed release." He was standing in front of the bed, staring fixedly at my chest. I looked down, noticing to my horror it was completely bare. I gasped, having not realized the covers had accidentally slipped again. I desperately scrambled to disclose my nude form again, and I felt like kicking Hunter as he tried to keep his chuckle behind his sealed lips.

"Liar," I croaked.

"As are you."

"You lied to me first."

"How do I even know? You lied to me for so many other things," he sighed in distress, plummeting down at the edge of the bed. I scooted away from him, rolling my eyes when the bed covers slid from body. I didn't even care anymore. He could stare all he wanted. He had already seen everything. He wasn't getting one piece of me. I wasn't giving him a souvenir.

"I lied," I whispered finally, hanging my head in shame. I just couldn't bear to look him in the eye, or even at all. "I lied, and made up stories. To make my life sound more…normal. But exciting and different at the same time. I was going to tell you but then…" I sighed, hugging my knees to my exposed chest. "It was too late."

"Like what?" he asked quietly, his voice surprisingly calm. His gaze was glued to the floor, his eyes glossy as he thought, so deeply that for a second, he seemed like the man I had known. But just as quickly, the feelingdiminished.

"Like my father," I muttered, turning my eyes away out the window to study the somber sky. "My father was never a major, praised detective." I gulped forcibly, my throat dry of moisture all of a sudden. "He was a lawyer."

"And what the fuck is wrong with that?"

I shrugged, feeling ridiculous. "I don't know," I whispered embarrassedly. "I just wanted to be different." I pressed my lips together, watching as the gray clouds prepared themselves for the storm. "God, I was just so confused then."

"Like you are now?"

"No, worse."

He seemed surprised that I had agreed to his smart-ass comment.

"Are you sure?"

"No. I'm not sure of anything anymore."

"I'll help you," he offered faintly, his voice quiet and timid.

"NO!" I yelled. "I don't fucking want your help. You'll only fuck it up more."

I don't think he'd ever heard me curse so much in his life. But it was out of my power. I was breathing heavily, just staring at his limp figure on the edge of the bed in deep, meaningful thought.

I couldn't believe him. I just couldn't. No matter how much I wanted to. No matter how much I wanted everything to be okay again, better; like it was before. And he looked so damn beautiful sitting there, contemplating seriously to himself, the moonlight shimmering off of his gleaming skin, and his dulled blue eyes closed.

"If there's anyone who needs help, it's you," I supposed icily, readjusting my position on the bed so I was laying down on my back, my elbows up for support behind me. He didn't move, his solemn eyes still permanent to the floor in concentration. He sighed unenthusiastically again, his worn shoulders wilting.

"Just—" he let out a strangled exhale.

"What?" I spat out.

"Gabriella…I need you."

"Just shut the fuck up, okay?" I jumped up immediately, bouncing around the dark room frenziedly and searching desperately for my clothes, pulling them on as quickly as I could. "Asshole."

"Please, Gabriella," he whispered tiredly, his voice dripping with sadness. I whipped around, greatly bothered, only to meet his dismally solemn face, fresh tears ready to spill from his cobalt eyes any second. "I went back to your house. In San Diego."

"Liar."

"No, _no_," he sobbed, shaking his head vigorously to prove his point. "I had to make sure—I had to make sure y-you weren't there…that you were h-here…"

I suddenly stopped, dropping my shoe in shock. The sound of it connecting with the hardwood floor was the only other thing heard in the room besides his continuous, hopeless wails, which he tried to muffle in his hands. "W-What?" I breathed uncertainly, my voice cracking terribly. I stared aimlessly at the shadowed wall, my dreary eyes glazing over as my heart began thumping uncontrollably in my chest, harder and faster with every long second. "W-Wait—you kn-knew…you knew I-I was here?" I choked, somehow forcing the disgusting words out of my mouth, barely coherent at the last part. My chest throbbed at the oxygen trapped in its confines.

"Chad," he whispered bluntly in disgrace, his head hung and still hid snuggly in his rough hands. "Chad told me he…h-he met you." Unable to carry on, he paused to sob once or twice more, my heart breaking at the pitiful sight. I wanted so much to run over there and wrap my arms around him, and soothe him to peace. But I squeezed my clammy fingers into fists, knowing I needed to maintain some willpower. I couldn't do that. That would only dig myself a deeper hole.

"A-and…?" I croaked weakly, slowly bending down to pick up my dropped shoe. I felt so stiff as I stared at him, finding it hard to breathe as he rubbed his tear-stained face thoroughly again, as if trying to rid the sadness that drenched the room. My eyes were glued to him, just analyzing his every move; so beautiful and intricate. And oh God, I was falling again. I was falling for him. Falling in love. I couldn't. I just couldn't do that. To myself, to the world, to God…I owed myself some strength. I needed to regain status and show him that I wasn't easy to tear down. It didn't matter that he thought he knew the truth already. It didn't matter. Nothing mattered.

Except him. He mattered. He did. And as much as I told myself he didn't, the more he seemed to be of importance.

"I told th-them…" He ran his fingers through his hair nervously, only briefly lifting his heavy head to reveal a wet, sodden face, purple bags under his eyes from an unhealthy lack of sleep. "I told Ch-Chad, T-Taylor, and Sharp-pay to keep an eye on y-you…until I got back…"

"Until you got back from where?" I whispered, barely able to contain myself through the budding suspense and impatience inside of me, ready to burst. "From Nevada?"

He nodded wearily, his head dropping back into his hands lazily like a hundred-pound weight dropping onto asphalt. "I was at basketball c-camp…but I couldn't d-do—anyth-thing…without y-you …my baby…"

I flinched uncomfortably at the name. "Don't call me that. Just—don't," I muttered, my forehead crinkling in disgust at the term of endearment. He had no right to call me that anymore. Like I was still his girlfriend. Like I was still his. Maybe not entirely, and not officially, but I think we both knew that he still secured my heart. My broken heart. And he only continued to tear it apart. But I had no hopes of getting it back anytime soon; he had no intentions of returning it. It wasn't like he'd be able to anyway.

"I—really…I had never felt so f-fucking shitty b-before in my entire lif-fe…I just had to—I just n-need—I just need-ded you…so fucking much…so I ran…" The glow of the moon reflecting of him only made him seem more precious, more like a treasure. My face softened suddenly, my lips trembling as well as my hoarse voice.

"You…r-ran?" I strained, covering my mouth as boiling tears began brimming my eyes again. But what I really was thinking was, _You ran? For…me? _Because in a way, it seemed so.

"I r-ran…I ran away from the camp to your old h-house in San D-Diego…it was l-like it was all a nightmare…I was so l-lost…and so then…I es-escaped and came here…Tay and Chad and Shar don't kn-know I am here y-yet…" And he broke down into pathetic, full-fledged sobs all over again.

I just stood there, totally clueless of what to do, feeling awkward and out of place. My small figure felt solid and firm, unwilling to let me move. No matter how much I wanted to, I simply couldn't. My aching feet were anchored there, and my gaze was just fixed on him and only him, my own fiery tears burning my face at the sight of his despaired, crumpled form. I clasped my hands together, screaming at myself on the inside not to jump on him in a caring embrace. But it proved to be one of the most difficult things I ever had to abstain from doing.

"Why did you go that basketball camp, Hunter?" He grimaced at the name, almost as if in pain. "Why?" I stressed again, though more softly.

"I lived here…before I-I moved to San Diego to be with my mom…I l-lived here with my dad…but he got too controlling and annoying…s-so I told my m-mom…she fought w-with my dad and eventually my parents arranged I-I would live with my mom for a year or t-two…but then time was u-up… I h-had to go…I had s-signed myself up for b-basketball camp before you so I could g-get out of school and my d-dad for a while…as long as-s I could, I wanted t-to be away…but then y-you c-am—cam-me and I wanted to be w-with you for—for-rever…and then I had to go…and it was so fucking God awful…"

I bit my tongue forcefully at his disheartening confession, my spirits so hazardously low they brushed the ground. My chest barely expanded with each quick, shallow breath, as I was incapable of taking anymore than a quarter of a lungful. "If you wanted to be with me forever, you would have called," I whispered coldly again, wiping away a falling tear. "You would have contacted me somehow."

"I'm sorry, okay?" Hunter gulped. "I thought we were over that."

"We're not over anything."

"You're over _me_," he swallowed hoarsely.

My heart jolted at this, my stomach flipping in terror. "I never said that," I whispered bitterly.

"You haven't said much; so what am I supposed to think, do?" he replied firmly, his voice suddenly containing an alarming amount of power. He stood up abruptly, his burly form towering over mine, intimidating me to my bones and causing me to feel like a useless midget.

"I don't want to have anything to do with y-you," I stuttered between sobs. "I can't believe I ever fell in l-love with a fucking moron like you."

I twirled around before he could reply, slipping my foot in my shoe and racing out the bedroom door. I sprinted down the lengthy, dark hallway, coughing at the smoke a few times before reaching the end. I checked behind me quickly to make sure he wasn't at my tail. He hadn't followed me. I ran down the steps, feeling new sweat bead on my forehead, and I automatically diving into the mass of people, the immense density unbelievable. I had never seen so many teenagers at one house party in my life.

"Excuse me," I grunted as I did my best to meddle myself through the thick pack. My eyes frantically searched for the exit. "Excuse me, I need to—"

But suddenly, I saw an excruciatingly familiar figure to my left, grinding violently with a muscular man who looked much, much older. I didn't even need to glimpse her barely-a-foot-long miniskirt; the cardboard-straight golden hair whipping around wildly in the fog was it. And if that wasn't enough, the exotic, snakeskin-green eyes really established the fact.

Elizabeth had joined the party.

A shocked gasp; a whitened, pale face; and then heard above all, "_Gabriella_!"

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**A/N: And to all the Americans, I hope all of you had wonderful Fourth of Julys! And thanks to nostalgicleigh, that was a really sweet PM. ;D **


	9. Thunder, Thunder, Burning Bright

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A/N: Wow, rachrep, thanks so much for the reviews! I really was blown away. And thanks again tons to JohnKrasinskiLover and FeJoy29.

**Disclaimer: I do not own Disney or High School Musical or any of these characters except mine. **

* * *

A human behind me had produced the astounded voice.

I whirled around to see Hunter, his face dulled and the color drained from his skin. He looked terribly sick.

"Get away from Elizabeth," he managed to squeak hoarsely.

"What?" I yelled over the noise. "How do you know her?"

"Eric is one of my best friends," Hunter replied quickly, snatching my arm and pulling me in the other direction. "I'm not stupid. I know your mom is marrying Mr. Wheaton."

"Fuck—how…? How do you know?" I stuttered in disbelief. His fingernails were digging into my skin because he was so damn nervous and fidgety. I wrenched away my arm in annoyance, only to have it yanked back by him. "Answer me!" But he didn't.

"Stay here," he grumbled. "I don't want Elizabeth seeing you. You'll get into fuck loads of trouble. She's the type to tell."

"I don't even know what she's doing here! I mean—she's underage!" I stammered in shock. He simply muffled my voice by covering my mouth with his hand, squeezing my arm and dragging me through the crammed crowd of drunken people.

"As are we," he muttered in a low voice. "Come on now. You're only making it harder for yourself. This can be easy and simple, or difficult and complex. Take your pick. But if you're truly smart, you'll know what's best and you will do what I say."

But I couldn't stop. I was kicking and thrashing around, so utterly desperate to be released from his muscular grip on my feeble arm. It felt like he was going to snap my bone. "Let _go _of me!" I screamed madly like I was a delusional mental hospital patient. "Let _go _of me!" But he didn't, only strengthening his rough hold and pushing his way through the dizzy teenagers. Many were staring at me, their eyes wide. I didn't care. I just wanted Hunter to let go of me. And _now_. "Fucking let _go_!" I hollered frantically again, my sore voice becoming rather croaky, as it was so dry from yelling.

He whipped me around violently, his rigid hand still grasping my arm firmly. I winced at the painful burning sensation his nails sinking into my skin caused. I stared down at my feet, willing to do absolutely anything to avoid his unsettling, cruelly discomforting gaze. I could feel his fixed eyes boiling at the sight of me, total smart-ass, boring into my limp image in aggressive determination.

"Look at me," he stated harshly, his words jumbling jagged from his mouth and slicing through my skin sharper than his fingernails. And when I didn't obey, his grip only increased to a more unbearable point. "_Look at me_," he ordered coldly, his now dark navy blue eyes spiraling down threateningly at me. But I didn't give in to his demand. I continued watching my feet and the floor, dismissing his wicked glare.

Who fucking was this guy? It was scaring the shit out of me. I don't think I'd ever been this terrified in my entire pathetic life. I couldn't let him control me—couldn't let him steal my voice and power of myself—

He jerked my arm upwards, causing my head to bob up suddenly against my will and incline up to meet his misted eyes. I gasped aloud in frightened astonishment at what I witnessed dangerously brewing in them; the hardness and still of them made me suddenly break down into tears, collapsing on the ground in a pitiful heap and sobbing my fucking heart out.

I didn't know what had so suddenly come over me, but something had, and it was serious. I had never seen him look to horrifyingly scary; so unforgettably haunting. I was trembling on the floor uncontrollably, my mind flooded with petrifying pictures of his stone, expressionless face.

"Hunter…" I choked between sobs. "Hunter…I miss you…the old you…where a-are you?" I was speaking more to myself than anyone, not noticing anyone around me. I was encased in my own little lonely world, and no one could get in. No one had in the longest time. And I knew it would continue to be that way.

_You know you are officially crazy when you start talking to yourself. _

_At least, that's what did it for me. _

_"The geometry test really wasn't as hard as I _thought _it would be, and I think I did good, you know? Problem fourteen was a killer, and I totally guessed, but I think I still could have gotten it right. But then again problem twenty was worse, don't you think? I mean, there wasn't enough information in the prompt! Or was there? I don't know, but either way, I know I got that one wrong…" I rambled on to myself as I doodled in my notebook, my mind rather absent, trying to focus on other things besides the one worry that was itching to be thought out. _

_I suddenly stopped moving my ballpoint pen, my hand falling idle and the writing utensil dropping aimlessly into my lap. My eyes developed a hazy fix to them, blanked out completely. My voice was softer and hesitant as I whispered my next heart-hurting words, "Mom and Dad have been fighting a lot lately." I hugged my knees, pressing my legs against myself anxiously. "It's scaring me. God, it's _scaring _me." Tears erupted behind my eyelids, making my eyes simmer from the heat, but I refused to let them slip. _

_I was shivering hopelessly in the dark, shadowed janitor's closet. There were ragged mops leaning lazily on the walls, plastic pails and monster-sized buckets strewn carelessly about the small quarter. Worn, holey sponges were stacked sloppily on one wooden shelf, paper towel rolls stuffed hastily in the back of another, and containers of citrus-smelling floor soap lined the tiled floor. I was currently crumpled up on one of the larger buckets, my tiny body more than just able to fit in its space. _

_"Do you think God forgets people sometimes?" I croaked out hoarsely, my brown eyes positively on fire as they strained themselves to hold back hot tears. "Because I really think He forgot me." _

_But then I couldn't take it; and I was just wailing, completely bawling, like an immature baby, on that stupid oversized bucket. _

_God really _didn't _care about me. If God really loved me, He would give me an A on that geometry test. If God really loved me, he would make the soup of the day chicken noodle at lunch. But there were bigger, more important things that mattered more. Things I cared about more. If God really loved me, I wouldn't be alone right now, nothing to do free period and no friends. If God really loved me, He would make my parents stop fighting. If God really loved me, He would change my mom's job so we wouldn't have to move around so much. _

_And I said the last one aloud, my voice low and soaked with sadness, "If God really loved me, He would give me a reason to live." _

_And it was true. What was I living for? What was I _waiting _for? There was nothing to gain; nothing to lose. So much to learn; yet so little time. So few choices; so few alternate escape paths. There was nothing, nothing in this world I could do to make it all better. But someone else could. And though that seemed to make even more sense, I knew no one would rescue me. And if someone did, I would be waiting around until eternity for a worthy savior to come by. _

_My shoulders shook harder with each ground-quaking sob, causing a wild uprising in my body, my stomach churning more furiously with every second. I was going to vomit—I was going to puke in the janitor's closet—_

_I immediately slapped my hands to my mouth, my eyes anxiously searching for something to throw up in. Soap, mop, sponge, paper towel…_bucket_! Eureka. I quickly flipped over the bucket I had been sitting on, kneeling down at its side, my chin resting on the plastic rim. _

_"FUCK!"_

_The closet door suddenly flew open to reveal a tall, handsome boy who I knew was around my age. _

_I gulped, feeling the sick rise in my throat, my stomach only contracting more. I felt so queasy…God…but it was Troy Bolton. It was fucking _Troy Bolton_! There was no fucking way I was going to barf in the presence of the almighty, super Troy Bolton—basketball star, straight-A student—_

_And then before I knew it, I was gagging, and staring straight down at my breakfast, chewed morsels of waffle swimming around in orange juice. I closed my eyes briefly, not believing what had just happened. The open door let a few welcome rays of light illuminate the black closet, and I slowly lifted my head to look at his surprised face. He was wearing a sort of sour expression, but I knew that was only the result of the foul wretch of the vomit. He was generally a nice guy. At least, from what I had heard. _

_"You okay?" he asked finally, his voice tentative. _

_God, his voice sounded wonderful. Just so beautiful, so…amazing. Like his enchanting eyes. And Lord, those were the most hypnotic eyes I had ever encountered. I was entranced for a lovely moment as I stared at him, but I quickly snapped out of the reverie as I answered shortly, "I'm fine." He just stood there at the door, awfully nervous, his arms hanging off of his shoulders at his sides awkwardly, as if he didn't know what in the world to do with them. His adorable little mouth was puckered into a surprised 'o' shape, his mesmerizing eyes open wide. _

_But he didn't go away. He remained standing there, just watching me. _

_I threw up two more times. And I was so embarrassed, I almost cried. And later, I learned from him that I had no reason to be embarrassed. _

My throat hurt, my head hurt, my stomach hurt—absolutely everything throbbed and ached from crying so much. I couldn't even see anything.

And suddenly, he did the opposite of what he had done in my memory, the opposite of what I had expected—he held me. I felt his arms drape around my shrunken form, any conscious life having been completely sucked out me. He sat down in the middle of the swarming hallway, gently pulling me into his lap and resting my heavy head on his chest.

I had to stay strong…I _had_ to stay strong…but I was much too tired to even move.

"Please," I murmured halfheartedly, for I knew this would not make any difference. "Please, _Troy_, let me go." He flinched at his real name, only scooting over to the wall and leaning his back on it for support. He pushed me tighter against him, and caving, I shut my weary eyes, just letting myself cascade in his essence. I couldn't fight back. I was too exhausted…too worn…I wanted him. Of course I wanted him. And for just a second, I let my worries go. I could fix it all later. My head was pounding horribly, but I tried my best not to let the pain consume me. That didn't matter. He softly stroked my sweaty hair, pressing his palm to my blazing forehead in concern at its temperature.

"Shh…" he soothed me, whispering calmly in my ear. "Just go to sleep." I snuggled up to his chest, inhaling deeply and practically melting at the enthralling aroma of his familiar cologne. The circular motions of his hand rubbing my back lulled me to deep peace in no time, my breathing finally regulating itself into its former normal rhythm and time.

* * *

_God…she looks so fucking beautiful sleeping…_Troy thought to himself, tucking a stray lock of hair behind her ear. Her dark, brown tendrils were sticky and moist, strands pasted together in bundles, but God, did she look gorgeous. And her marvelous eyes…they looked so relaxed and serene, closed so gently like that, her eyelashes curled up just so slightly. Her nose—it was absolutely perfectly created; and her skin…it was just so baby soft. He just wanted to kiss her. More than anything. He could feel that memorable magnetic force drawing his lips nearer and nearer to hers. It was so unbelievably tempting, but he wasn't stupid. Troy readjusted her in his lap, taking on hand to cradle the base of her head protectively.

"Hunter…" she muttered tiredly under her breath, her eyes still fluttered shut. For a second, Troy's heart lifted at the sound of her voice calling his name. She didn't even sound angry or bothered. She was talking to him like how she used to talk to him. And how much he had missed that.

_She's sleep-talking…_Troy confirmed for himself, frowning in disappointment. _She has no idea what she is saying_.

Troy shuddered at her hot exhales flaming his skin, slowly declining his head and pecking a chaste kiss to her hot, damp forehead. "It's all a dream, baby," Troy whispered lovingly, threading his fingers through her hair. "Everything's fine, Gabi."

"I love it when you call me that," she mumbled, barely coherent.

"Shh…" he whispered warmly again, peppering another tender kiss on her neck, the first place he saw. Troy dug his fingers into her corduroys, feeling around for her car keys. He found them, in her back pant pocket, wedged all the way down there. He carefully fished them out, extra careful not to wake her. He dropped the keys into his own pocket, enveloping his arms around her tighter and standing, using the wall as help. He set one arm under her bottom, as if she were just a toddler, the other hand at her head, gently pressing it down to his solid chest.

Where was Elizabeth Wheaton when you needed her for once?

Troy swallowed forcibly, shoving his way impatiently through the lightheaded flock of people, desperately searching for that knowable reddish-blonde head.

Elizabeth Wheaton was the most popular girl in the tenth grade; she was and had _always _beenthe popular one. The girl that all the boys fell over; the girl all the girls wanted as their biffle. Elizabeth used this to her advantage, hanging out with older people and the populars, and the populars strictly, treating anyone else like pure trash. She had a polluted, negative attitude; she thought she was the best thing that had ever happened to the world. That she was perfect and pretty, and _everyone_ loved her. However, that was nowhere near the case. Anyone above tenth grade easily knew the hidden truth about skanky Elizabeth Wheaton. That is what she did—she went to crazy parties, got wasted out of her mind, and got fucked. She was the biggest slut below the junior grade. And if that's not saying much, she was still probably one of the biggest whores in the whole school. There was not one party she didn't attend. You _always _saw her there.

And yet Troy must have ventured all over the mansion; everywhere he could think of. She was nowhere to be found. Troy resignedly pushed open the front door of the house, almost falling out onto the expensively sculpted porch and clambering down the steps the best he could while still clutching Gabriella close to his chest, as if she were a treasured trophy.

"Shit," he groaned in a low voice to himself. It had started to drizzle. The droplets of water began to pierce his skin, harder and harder, the sharp feeling making him wince. It wasn't even all rain. To his horror, it was hail. Troy took a deep, greatly needed breath, shielding Gabriella from the pellets of ice. He scanned the street for Gabriella's car, just to verify his suspicion. There was no sign of it. He knew Elizabeth had taken it. Eric had told him how they all had to share one car, and they all had keys to it. It was some thing about Maria and Phillip wanting them to "share and bond _kindly_."

Troy pressed his lips together, brushing his lips against his ex-girlfriend's cheek in another reassuring kiss. Those kisses were more for himself than for her. He just needed to feel her velvety skin against his; to know she was really there and this was all happening. He had been waiting so long to get his hands on her, and now that it was finally happening, it was just too surreal. It was _not _how he had planned it. How he had envisioned it. But at least it had happened, and at least he was with her. And that was more than he could ask for.

He trudged over to his own car, unlocking the passenger seat door and carefully seating her wilted, petite body in the seat, gently strapping on her seatbelt. He stared at her for a minute in awe at her serenity and beauty before finally ripping his gaze away reluctantly, sighing as he closed her car door and slid into the driver's seat. He put the car into ignition, praying that the noise wouldn't wake her up. Fortunately, it didn't.

The whole two-hour ride was fairly tranquil. Gabriella barely stirred, and when she did, it was only to readjust her arrangement in the seat. Troy couldn't help but stare at her at every second he got. Traffic? He would stare at her. Red light? He would continue to gaze at her. It was a craving addiction to him; he just couldn't help himself. He hungrily drank in the gorgeous sight of her, taking in every inch of her flawless form. Arresting these infatuated thoughts was not a sane option; they were unstoppable. Troy had never seen Gabriella appear so goddamn beautiful in his life—or even _anyone _so beautiful in his life. Troy wasn't sure if it was merely the painful lack of absence, but the anxious yearning for her was finally soothing itself.

By the time they arrived at the Wheaton's mansion, it was two in the morning. Troy heaved a tired sigh as he parked the old sputtering truck on the side of the road, gently scooping Gabriella in his arms and placing an affectionate kiss on her steaming forehead. The pinching hail was still pelting through the sky, pricking his skin. He protectively guarded Gabriella the best he could as he scurried through the front door, triple-checking to make sure no one was present. He guessed that Victoria and James were already sleeping. Elizabeth's car hadn't been in the driveway; he figured she might have switched to a different party. That sounded exactly like something she would do. One was never enough in her world.

Troy carefully climbed the sturdy steps to which he supposed was Gabriella's room, for the light, sugary fragrance in the room smelled exactly like her. He softly lied her down on the bed, easing off her shoes and tucking her in under the covers securely. He would have undressed and changed her into her pajamas, but he knew that if he wanted her to trust him, he needed to truly respect her and think on both sides of the conflict. Gabriella was extremely self-conscious, and he needed to acknowledge that truth.

Just as he was about to leave, he jumped in surprise at unexpected angry thunder rumbling outside, brutally racking the earth and disturbing its inhabitants. Lightening flashed madly, the uninvited brightness filling the room through the broad, uncovered windows that lined the walls of Gabriella's beautiful bedroom.

"Troy!" Gabriella suddenly gasped in urgency, shuddering in fright under the blankets. Troy knew more than well that she was absolutely terrified by storms of any kind, his bruised heart absolutely shattering at the sound of her tiny voice so helpless. He immediately rushed over to her bed, poring over her shrunken, horrified self. "I'm scared," she whimpered pitifully, fresh tears brimming her chocolate eyes. "I don't want to be alone. I'm not putting up a fight, because I know it's not worth it. But don't think I've forgiven you, Troy. Lord, I don't even know what's happening, and I'm so confused. But fuck, I can't be alone right now. I just fucking can't."

Troy nodded in complete understanding, not even needing the explanation, quickly dragging her desk chair over to the side of her bed and watching in somewhat sadness as she curled up into a tight ball, her back to him. And yet he just couldn't take his eyes of off her frame, placing his large, warm hand on her shivering back and rubbing smooth, comforting circles like he had just three hours before. He knew from experience that this was one of the few things he could do to calm her down during storms. Every time the loud boom of thunder striking the ground entered her ears, she would moan or whimper and coil herself up even tighter. Troy would sigh in pain, the troubling sight of her so scared and vulnerable making him ache. He began to grow sleepy, but forced his heavy eyes not to droop closed as he continued to rub her back, knowing if he stopped she would erupt in hysterics.

He could hear her crying quietly to herself, his stomach flipping in alarm at the heart-wrenching sound.

"Are you okay?" he whispered hesitantly, his tone soft and patient. Gabriella practically liquefied at the caring nature of his silky voice.

"I'm fine," she whispered forcefully, trying her best to sound confident.

"You sure?" Troy asked again, nowhere near convinced.

"I'm fine." And then faintly and slowly again, "I'm fine."

* * *

**A/N: I feel really sick today. :( Ugh. Really dizzy. This was the result of boredom, so... I don't know. What it okay? Does it suffice? I know it wasn't the best but I didn't want to make you guys wait. **


	10. Soft, Sweet, and Slow

****

A/N: Thank you to jb1236 and rachrep again for your support! And to JohnKrasinskiLover and FeJoy29, you two make me smile and go all giddy. :D So this is for you 4. :D

**Disclaimer: I do not own Disney or High School Musical or any of these characters except mine. **

* * *

Troy figured he must have accidentally fallen asleep at some point, for one second he was staring at Gabriella, and the next he was staring at the bed cover, his heavy head having dropped, and himself, immediately slipping into a deep slumber. Troy awoke to an especially tiny-looking Gabriella, sitting up timidly and yanking softly at his T-shirt, her lips quivering dangerously and her gorgeous mocha eyes brimmed with fiery tears. She looked so pitiful and vulnerable, giving her signature gaze to her ex-boyfriend in that adorable, pleading way, her brown eyes engorged to the size of tennis balls and practically begging in their own persuasive manner. She had tugged lightly at his shirt once more, her little bottom lip pushed out in a cute pout that she knew made Troy cave so very easily. He knew extremely well what she wanted, and he heaved a tired sigh.

"You know this isn't going to fix anything, right?" Troy whispered in a low, glum voice. Gabriella only nodded stiffly, biting her lip. And both of them somehow had spoken suddenly—even though no words were exchanged aloud—and they both desperately lunged at each other at the same time, Gabriella completely melting the second she fell into his open arms. Troy breathed in her memorable scent deeply, relishing the fact that his baby was finally in his arms, the right way. Because this time, they both truly wanted and needed each other's embrace. Troy scooted over on the bed, strategically leaning against the headboard of the bed, and carefully pulling Gabriella into his warm lap. She hid her face in his humid neck, sighing at the memories that flooded her cluttered mind and at the remarkable sensations coursing through her from Troy's invigorating touch. Troy, in turn, buried his face in her perfect dark curls, inhaling her familiar shampoo.

"Can we worry about it all later?" Gabriella whimpered, her somber voice muffled by Troy's skin. He shivered at the amazing vibrations sparked by her velvety voice, but his heart split at the manner of gloom to it.

"The more we stall it, the more trouble we are building," Troy murmured into her hair. "I don't want to dig a deeper hole." He squeezed her body gently, pressing her tight against his chiseled self.

"I know, I know," Gabriella replied forlornly. "I just…I just missed you so goddamn much, and then we meet and we have rough, almost painful sex and then we have this huge emotional fight." She paused to sigh miserably, curling her arm around Troy's waist. "It just…wasn't what I fantasized."

"Do you think that's what _I_ wanted?" Troy responded dejectedly. "It was just so spur of the moment that I don't even remember what I was thinking. Probably because I wasn't thinking at all."

He craned his neck to one side to see the violent scene still occurring outside Gabriella's bedroom windows. The grieving sky was still a murky, malevolent gray, the aggressive thunder having arrested but the lightening deciding to make unexpected returns every few minutes. Harsh rain continued to patter against the ground, not showing any signs of halting soon. Vicious, whirling winds were prolific with power, whipping around ferociously at full speed. Troy sighed as his head retreated to its burrow in Gabriella's hair, shockwaves shooting through his veins at the recognizable touch.

"So you admit it," Gabriella whispered slowly after a short, thoughtful silence, her tone despondently grave. Both of their hearts broke together—sore, battered piece by piece—at those ripping, despairing words. They hung suspensefully between them in the air, the environment suddenly clogging with immense abundance of tension and pressure.

"I admit I was a fucking player to do that to you," Troy replied. "Just know I would never—"

"—Troy…" Gabriella interjected exhaustedly, picking her head up off the scorching crook of his neck. "You're not the man I remember, okay? But you're the closest thing I've got. The closest thing to him I can find. And I really need him. Now, more than ever." She gripped his waist tighter, almost symbolizing to him that she truthfully did need him more than he would have ever guessed. Troy sighed at this, closing his eyes temporarily as the facts speared him.

"Gabriella…" Troy began, trailing off as he found his mouth hopelessly dry of sentences. "I know I'm not the same. I know I am different. But I swear. I am trying to find that other guy. And you…just you being here with me is already making me a better person."

Gabriella sighed desolately against his skin, unsure whether to believe his cliché words or not. "I'm not sure if I can believe what you say. I can't trust you, Troy…" She suddenly sat up from his engulfment, her hands falling at her sides and sitting in his wide, roomy lap sideways as she blankly gazed out the window, her mind obviously absent. Troy's face fell like an avalanche from the movement, feeling a sharp twinge in his chest.

"I'm not asking you to trust me," Troy responded quickly, a burgeoning hint of desperateness struck in his voice. He anxiously searched for her luminous orbs in the haunting darkness, turned away from his. But she simply wouldn't allow them to connect their eyes at the moment. "I just want you to know that I know I'm not the same. That I've changed. I understand that, Gabriella," he swallowed nervously. His rough hands were trembling uncontrollably, and they hesitantly gravitated over to her waist, where he gently set his hands in a daring move. She flinched, but did not shrug them off. She vacantly pressed her pale lips into a thin, serious line, contemplating deeply as she stared expressionlessly into the dim night.

Even thought Troy only viewed her silhouette, he thought she still looked so beautiful. She had pulled her hair up into a sloppy, careless bun before, ravenous tendrils falling out of it left and right. It took everything he had in him to resist tucking one behind her ear. She was so ungodly gorgeous and so smart and sweet, and he somehow had been blessed with her presence and love. He didn't know how, but he was thankful to God that he had. He just couldn't imagine life without her, and it was as simple as that. He had dreamed and yearned for her for months, crying and moaning for her, because he _needed _her. And when he returned to his beloved princess…they were in a mess that they had both unknowingly caused.

"Can't we pretend?" she whispered dismally. His stomach ached as he swore he heard tears laced in her voice. "Can't we pretend it was like how it was? Even just for tonight?"

"It's not going to repair any damages, Gabriella," Troy repeated again. "You're just stalling." Gabriella seemed hurt by the truth, her shoulders dipping low.

"It won't make much of a difference if it's only a small amount of time," Gabriella answered longingly in crisp whisper. "Just…please. I want to welcome you the proper way. I want to catch up with you the way I wanted…maybe not exactly the person I wanted, but near enough." Her head slowly swiveled around and she gave a sad sort of smile, her dreary eyes creasing. "Please…Troy."

"And how did you want to welcome me?" he gulped hoarsely.

But no quick words were produced from her mouth, or needed either. She simply placed her lips upon her lover's larger ones, gingerly and slowly caressing them, immediately moaning at the softness she felt. Troy eagerly responded, his eyes drifting shut at the feelings that were suddenly evoked in his rigid form. Troy's large, solid hands seemed to levitate over to her face, holding it in place as he tugged softly at her inviting lips. He could already feel himself begin to harden, and Gabriella began to feel certain wetness between her legs.

_The best thing 'bout tonight's that we're not fighting _

_Could it be that we have been this way before? _

_I know that you don't think I am trying_

_I know you're wearing down thin to the core_

"Fuck," Gabriella mumbled in irritation against Troy's rosy lips, vaguely hearing a ringtone somewhere in the faint background. She made a brisk move to pull away, but Troy refused the action to execute, only luring her closer with his lips and reattaching them in urgency. Gabriella's mind became foggy with unclear thoughts as her hands slowly delved into his chestnut hair, threading her fingers through it as her lips leisurely and tenderly agreed with his in a sweet sort of harmony, their lips mashing engagingly together in surprising patience. Her pulsation below her augmented suddenly and quickened, the ache alone making her hair stand up on end.

_But hold your breath_

_Because tonight will be the night _

_I will fall for you over again_

_Don't make me change my mind _

Troy's coarse fingers were rubbing relaxed circles on her glowing skin as he continued to kiss her, so gentle and affectionate, his lips moving with hers at a snail's pace in excessive contrast to their hurried fuck session before. Their lips weren't partaking in any battle; merely involved in sweet accordance with each other's. Troy gradually pushed Gabriella back onto the bed, her eyes fluttering close as his lips continued to massage hers so intimately. She seemed to be giving off some sort of magical radiance about her, and Troy was utterly fascinated by it, addicted and only wanting more.

_Or I won't live to see another day_

_I swear it's true_

_Because a girl like you is impossible to find_

_You're impossible to find_

"Troy…" Gabriella murmured as his hand snaked up her sweater. Her breathing came out in gasps as he began peppering kisses all over her neck and collarbone. Her stomach flipped at the electric vibes she felt throughout her body, her hand clenching a fistful of his damp hair. "Maybe y-you—should g-get that…" she stammered through sucks and licks, her heart pounding wildly in her chest as his hand ventured further into sacred territory under her shirt. A knowing smile rounded at her lips at the choice of music cooing the background, the soft,coaxing melody of the hopeless love song pouring into her ears.

_This is not what I'd intended_

_I always swore to you I'd never fall apart_

_You always thought that I was stronger_

_I may have failed, but I have loved you from the start_

"Uh uh," Troy muttered before carefully straddling her, trailing kisses down the area of chest that was exposed before gently removing her sweater and continuing to caress her upper body, taking his time and assuring he had covered every inch of skin with consideration. He carefully unhooked her bra and freed her mounds, his eyes widening with want. His hands by instinct found their way to her full breasts, and the expert hands began to fondle them soothingly, Gabriella bursting out in irrepressible moans at his compelling actions. He took a moment to switch on her bedside light, the orange cast of the small light bulb shining the wanted diameter of attention on the large bed.

"What was that for?" Gabriella croaked as she helped Troy eliminate his T-shirt, throwing it to the floor. Troy declined his head down and stared into her tantalizing, chocolate eyes, still rather dull but incredibly amazing all the same. His hypnotic cobalt eyes were spinning with passionate emotion.

"I want to do this right," he whispered with a peck to her already swollen lips. "I want to see what I am doing. Make sure I don't hurt you. Make sure I see all of you." He paused before whispering, his eyes and voice softening, "See your beauty. The incredible beauty I have missed in the past few months."

And as Troy stared into her gleaming eyes, Gabriella knew his words weren't tricky, problematic lies. They couldn't be anymore of the truth. She could tell by the innocence of his face, his voice…just the way his trembling hands, showing how nervous he was, were rubbing up and down her arms in that gentle reassuring way. Comforting her that he was there, always and forever beside her when she needed him.

"I missed you," Gabriella merely whispered as she gazed up at him, thoroughly entranced by his mesmerizing sapphire eyes. They had her under a spell. They had captivated her and they weren't giving her back. "You know I missed you."

_Oh, but hold your breath_

_Because tonight will be the night _

_I will fall for you over again_

_Don't make me change my mind_

Troy brought his hand up to her angelic face, stroking her skin before leaning down and linking their lips in another gentle kiss. Gabriella's reply was sure and anxious, though not haste as she sensually moved her lips with his in a shared dance of union. Gabriella's diminutive hands explored his chest, outlining his defined muscles and paying special ode to his abs, which she brought her head up to lick at, Troy's mouth watering thirstily at the erotic sight. He pressed his palms to her bare backside, gently aiding her higher for easier access. Troy moaned as her tongue darted about, her lips perfectly moist as they tended to his skin.

_Or I won't live to see another day_

_I swear it's true_

_Because a girl like you is impossible to find_

_It's impossible to find_

Troy carefully pushed her back onto the bed, softly slipping off her corduroys and placing them aside. He began trailing delicate kisses up her toned legs, not believing how extraordinarily model-perfect they were. Gabriella threw her back at the amazing, uncontainable feeling, and Troy smirked against her skin at the exotic spectacle. The raw burning between her legs was becoming unbearable, and sitting up, she shimmied Troy's pants down, kicking them off the bed and pulling down his boxers. She smiled up at him in the orange beam; her brown eyes not back to normal but still gleaming wonderfully. She stared at his stiff cock in awe, fully aroused and ready. Troy smiled in a sort of admiring, knowing way, setting his hands to her tiny waist and affectionately pushing her down so her boiling hot back grazed the blankets and he laid on top of her. He pinched at the hem of her panties, leading them off her legs and dropping them to the floor.

_So breathe in so deep_

_Breathe me in, I'm yours to keep_

_And hold on to your words, 'cause talk is cheap_

_And remember me tonight when you're asleep_

Troy had to admit to himself that he was slightly surprised when Gabriella made the spontaneous attempt to turn their bodies over, almost unable to because of Troy's massively heavier weight. But Troy merely smiled at the action as he rewarded her with a loving kiss, assisting her kindly and flipping them over cautiously. A sly grin formed on Gabriella's mouth as she sexily wrapped one slender leg around his. She ran her skinny fingers through his sticky sandy hair, gazing deeply into his enticing cerulean eyes. That was all she wanted to do. And it forever had been that way. Troy brought his hand up to caress the back of her thigh, cherishing the way she shivered at his exhilarating touch.

_Because tonight will be the night _

_I will fall for you over again_

_Don't make me change my mind_

Gabriella rested her perspired forehead against Troy's even sweatier one, savoring the moment of staring into his eyes. She really could do that all night long. They were infinite of space, endless of discovery—they never ceased to make her heart lift. Troy rubbed their noses together calmly, dottinga charming kiss to her swelled lips. Troy's hand on her thigh steadily voyaged up to her pending entrance, and he dipped a finger between her wet folds, his eyes widening and stomach flipping at seeing how drenched she really was. He couldn't believe he had turned her on so much. The movement only made Gabriella more aroused, and the agonizing ache between her legs becoming so high and unendurable that she had to shift herself on him every few moments or so to distract herself. Troy was not helping, looking so hot and sexy she could scream. And she knew she would later, if she still had the energy. With his dark hair all tousled, that lazy but lovable smile slopped on his face, and those bright, brilliant blue eyes…how could she _not _want him? And his body…Oh Lord, his delicious, bulky figure…

"God, Gabriella…" Troy whispered gruffly, closing his eyes as her warm liquid soaked his fingers. Gabriella's own eyes flickered close fragilely, Troy extracting his fingers and engulfing her petite form with more kindhearted kisses. Gabriella whimpered at his touch, the long and lean leg wrapped around his tightening with each lick and suck. Troy moaned out as Gabriella smushed her mouth over his, slowly and gentling allowing their tongues play and investigate each other's mouth.

_Or I won't live to see another day_

_I swear it's true_

_Because a girl like you is impossible to find_

"Fuck," Gabriella whispered huskily against his bitten lips, her eyes burning with zeal and her stomach lurching at the lustful look in his sparkling eyes. Troy's hands had begun massaging her thighs again, vigorously but so softly at the same time. And it felt so goddamn good. Gabriella rubbed her pelvis against his stiff erection, smiling coyly as he moaned from the friction.

"You're so fucking sexy," Troy huffed to her, panting as he stared into her mesmerizing eyes. Gabriella bit her lip, only thinking the contrary. Troy snatched his pants, fishing for his wallet and wrenching out a condom, tearing it open as quickly as he could. Gabriella yanked it from his hands, taking the material and smoothing it out over his penis, unable to discount how he wavered under her light touch.

"I'm n-not, Troy," she gulped weakly before settling into a straddle and gently lowering herself on his hardness, her drained eyes almost rolling back in her head at the sudden penetration. Troy gripped her wrists, carefully guiding her down against his chest as he began moving for her. Gabriella's muscles were already outrageously sore from their previous activities, and she fought to keep her eyes open. Two crazy, eventful fucks in the span of a few hours were far too much for her tiny, unfit form. She wasn't an exercise buff. Troy clutched a shrunken Gabriella close and tight to him, gyrating his hips as he pumped in and out of her. His heart was pounding against his chest, and he could feel the intense beat in his throat. Sweat beaded on their sizzling skin, making it sticky and only making them adhere to one another.

"Yes, you are," Troy whispered honestly in Gabriella's ear, only causing her to shudder at the feeling of his steamy breath. "You are the sexiest, hottest thing I've ever s-seen in my life." He was gasping for oxygen as he continued thrusting into her, the ecstasy nearing progressively. He held onto Gabriella tighter, as if she were the only creature left he had in his life. And truly, it seemed that way. Gabriella could barely breathe, also feeling the pleasure building and building, as well as her exhaustion. Her heart thumped in her chest madly, so fast it alarmed her.

_Tonight will be the night that I will fall for you_

_Over again_

_Don't make me change my mind_

_Or I won't live to see another day_

"Stop-p it, Troy," Gabriella managed to strangle out of her throat. Surprised, Troy suddenly stopped diving into her, his attractive features arranged to show he was puzzled. Yet, his fingers couldn't help ghosting over her taut stomach, her muscles contracting at the astounding touch. Undeniable sparks erupted between them, only adding to the intensity and passion that thickened the atmosphere and only hindered their breathing more. "Stop—l-lying." That was the last thing she wanted to hear from his mouth. Lies. She didn't need any more trouble or complications. She just wanted to be with him, and it didn't have to be anymore complicated than that. But she couldn't help herself from viewing the problem as a trap. No matter how hard she tried. Gabriella pressed her lips together and tried to rotate her hips, signaling to Troy she meant for him to keep driving into her.

"I'm not lying," Troy whispered genuinely in her ear as he gave a few especially hard thrusts, as if to further prove his point. Gabriella groaned loudly at this, her small hand squeezing at his. She still felt pain, but she wasn't going to ruin it. She had to stay strong. She bit her lip roughly as she tried to listen to him. "I'm not going to l-lie any more. I-I'm not going to be that g-guy. I am tr-trying, Gabriel-la." The fact that he couldn't breathe was making it harder for him to talk. But Gabriella wasn't helping, practically convulsing in his sturdy arms. Troy's face fell at the troubling sight, difficult for him to see. "Almost there," Troy whispered softly to her as he cleared some moist dark curls from her worn face. Gabriella's weary eyes were half-open as she dueled for consciousness, struggling to keep awake and sensible. Troy placed a caring kiss to her forehead, and then to her two eyelids, which he gently nudged shut. Gabriella emitted a strangled moan as Troy continued to pierce her, Troy only replying in a whisper, "You need to be quiet. James and Victoria are sleeping…"

_I swear it's true_

_Because a girl like you is impossible to find_

_You're impossible to find_

Gabriella curled up tight to his chest, kissing his nipple absentmindedly, the simple action shoving Troy over the brim and into pure pleasure. He grinded his teeth together to suppress his moan, satisfied with just the grunt that was produced. He managed to keep his hips rolling, Gabriella clasping his hand in a surprisingly powerful death grip as she followed him to her peak right after, an uncontrollable moan croaking from her mouth. Troy felt her inner muscles clenching around him, Gabriella's thighs contracting to stone, and she dug her nails into his chest at the feeling. Troy winced, but pressed her against him tighter, urgently needing to know she was really there. Their breathing was heavier than before as they clung to each other, so raspy and desperate it took a handful of minutes until they were calmed down and tranquil. Even yet, their hearts were still hammering against their chests as if they had ran ten miles.

"I love you," Troy blurted in a whisper. "I don't mean that romantically—o-or intimately or as if we were in a relationship o-or something…I just want you to know that."

"I d-do," she choked sorrowfully, her voice cracking terribly. "I know you l-love me." The truth gnawed at her heart, her face cascading at the actuality. She wasn't going to say it back. She simply couldn't. It was prohibitted.

Troy sighed tiredly, burying his face in her hair and inhaling her scent, his head filling with her magnificent aromas. He secretly knew that she wasn't going to respond back to him, repeating the same three superior words he had just said. He knew she was vulnerable and afraid. "You're so goddamn beautiful, you know?" Troy whispered suddenly, marveling and unable to stop. He was talking about her aloud, and when he did, he never could stop. "God…your amazing hair…and that incredible mouth…and those miraculous, dazzling _eyes_…" He was just rambling on and on, the words garbling from his mouth; free-falling. Gabriella readjusted uncomfortably in his arms, feeling awkward at the confessions spewing from his throat.

"Troy…" Gabriella interrupted with a cough. She buried her face in the hot of his neck as if it were a spot she could hide. "Please stop lying. I can't h-handle any more lies." Troy sighed and cradled back of her head with one hand, content enough with the fact she was with him.

"I'm sorry," he apologized truthfully.

Gabriella swallowed forcibly. "I've heard too many of those from you recently. Please Troy…I don't want to swim in a swamped sea of sad, sorrowful sorrys." She placed a chaste kiss at his collarbone, his stomach somersaulting in reply. "So before I completely forbid them…I just want to say I am sorry that I am making this more complicated than it has to be. I just wanted this for so long…I couldn't get away…I couldn't stop. I had wanted to give myself to you fully, and I did. But it wasn't the way I planned, and I know I am such a girl, but I just _needed _to live that fantasy. Out of the few things in my life."

"And did you?" Troy asked hopefully, his thumb smoothing circles on the skin of her bruised thigh. He smiled into her hair as she shivered.

Gabriella disregarded his personal question. "Listen Troy, I know there is so much shit in between us that we need to sort out, and fuck loads of trouble waiting for us if we don't, but I needed this. I just needed to escape for a second."

"Now you know why last night happened like it did."

* * *

**A/N: So I am finally done with that idiot virus. It came and went, but now it is all gone. Yay! I should have a party. Anyway, I am not contented with this, and I will probably be going back and forth to it to fix things, but I wanted this out there because I didn't want you to wait. I hope you enjoyed! **

**Disclaimer: I do not own Fall For You by Secondhand Serenade.**


	11. What Have I Done?

****

A/N: WOW rachrep! Your review was amazing, and I'm deeply sorry I couldn't respond. I really wanted to, but I didn't have the time! Thanks to FeJoy29 and jb1236, for your lengthy reviews. HisDelilah, I could guess that you love that song. ;) I mean, who doesn't? And omg JohnKrasinskiLover, that was so sweet! By the way, I think it's time you update. ;) Hehe.

I know this is confusing for many, but please. Hang in there.

**Disclaimer: I do not own Disney or High School Musical or any of these characters except mine. **

P.S. This chapter starts _exactly _where the last one left off.

* * *

Gabriella's mouth dropped open. She had no response. Troy took the opportunity he had while Gabriella was in such deep contemplation, relieved that her hard grip on him had absentmindedly loosened, taking a second to switch off the dim orange light. Troy gently let Gabriella down, her sweaty back connecting with the bed sheets and her head lolling on the pillow as she kept her hands latched to his solid shoulders. Troy widened his legs into a straddle on top of her, bending his knees so he was sort of kneeling. He began pulling out her, gently but not slowly, and Gabriella started to whimper in protest, desperate for his protective warmth. It was difficult for him to hear, but Troy ignored her disapproval, removing the last inch from within her quickly and throwing the drenched condom in her trashcan, which was yet rather bloody.

"Troy—" Gabriella began desperately, her throat seeming to seal the second she tried to speak.

"No, Gabriella," Troy stated firmly, sliding back onto the bed and carefully yanking up the covers over their bodies. Gabriella merely sighed, letting her head droop onto his shoulder, tightening the bed comforter around their tired forms. Troy heaved an exhausted sigh in reply as he wrapped his arms around her, pulling her against him and allowing her to snuggle up to him. He pressed a loving kiss to her perspired forehead, letting his lips linger as he relished the strong moment he knew he might not get many of. Gabriella was stiff in suspense as she rasped shallow breaths, her heart beginning to pound madly against her chest once more. She felt suddenly awkward, not knowing what to do, what to say, or what would be her next brave move.

"Troy?" she whispered hesitantly, rupturing the silence with her crisp, intimidated voice. Troy hid his face in her hair, egging her on wordlessly. Gabriella drew in a deep, tryingly confident breath before continuing. "Troy, we need to find out a solution. I know that. And I am willing to put time into this, but only if you are. I'm not going to waste my time on something we both don't mutually want." Troy nodded, understanding every single word. She spoke softly, still extremely tentative, "So? Are you willing?"

Troy sighed, knowing beforehand that his answer would be unsatisfactory to her liking. "I have to think about it," he croaked hoarsely. He closed his eyes in pain as she reacted exactly how he had pictured. Her tiny form tensed drastically more in his arms, suddenly rigid and cold.

"What?" she managed to choke. "What-t do you mean? Say it a-again?" Her small hand curled around his tightly. Gabriella was hallucinating. She was sure of it. Maybe she had heard incorrectly. But somewhere deep in the grave pit of her stomach, she had heard each strained word clearly, unmistakably enunciated in her brain.

Troy gulped, his pale lips pursed as he gave a strangled retort. "I need to think this over, Gab."

Fresh tears welled up in her glossy eyes, and she didn't try to veil them, knowing she would fail anyway and any attempt would be useless. Troy's heart shattered at the desolate expression on her face, so lost and confused and helpless. "Wh-Why?" she stammered dejectedly. His organs seemed to wrench terribly at the distressing question, grazing in the fields of his mind. He swallowed forcibly before answering.

"I don't want to hurt you," Troy murmured tenderly, kneading her thigh gingerly. Gabriella flinched at the suddenness of intimate touch. "I need to fix myself first."

"F-Fix yours-self?" Gabriella muttered back, wholly perplexed. Her eyes widened, only glazing themselves with more boiling tears. Troy could feel his heart cascading further and further into the sinister crater that was his stomach with each passing beat of silence.

"Will you wait for me?" Troy whispered faintly. He could barely find his voice, and when he had found and pushed it out of his mouth, he didn't even recognize it. And truly, it scared the living daylights out of him.

"W-Wait for you?" Gabriella mumbled dazedly, suddenly feel dizzy as the world spun frantically about her.

It was like it was all a dream.

Like it wasn't really happening.

The blood was rushing to her head, blocking her thoughts. Her vision was blurred completely. Her elegant face was blank. She was hardly on the earth; hardly alive; hardly conscious; hardly sane. She couldn't feel Troy's gentle fingers stroking her thigh so affectionately. She couldn't feel his gorgeous face dug in her hair, inhaling her aroma while leaving his own unique scent on her. She couldn't feel his solid, muscular form pressed tightly up against hers. She couldn't feel his arms protectively snaked around her. She couldn't hear the angry rain, pattering furiously against the empty streets and slippery sidewalks. She couldn't taste the miserable bitterness seeping through her parched tongue.

Nothing.

Nothing. At. All.

She wasn't blinking. She wasn't feeling. Smelling. Hearing. Seeing. Tasting. Being. She was unoccupied of soul for those paranoid hours in that infinite, strenuous haze, which in reality was only a single minute or two. Instead of a cacophony of harsh, cackling noises, there was silence. Pure silence racking her mind.

Troy was strictly soundless as he deemed the ambiguous yet still harsh options and observed Gabriella through her sickeningly frightening vacancy, biting his lip in worry and concern as he noted her expressionless, dull eyes. Her face was nauseatingly pale, so drained of color that Troy had never witnessed that particular shade of white before.

_And she still looks so beautiful_, Troy thought to himself as he freed a breath he had not known he had imprisoned. Troy knew he had messed up big time. Was he only hurting her more with that answer? Should he just have gone for it? Should he just have agreed, and said he would put the time in to fix the dilemma? But he didn't want to let her down. He didn't want to agree, and then be unsuccessful for her. Troy only wanted the best for her, and it was as simple as that. It didn't have to be any more complicated. Then why did the troubles only persist to grow more complex?

Gabriella was barely breathing as he gazed at her, transfixed by her glowing, enchanting magic that just seemed to capture him, pathetically easily. "I want the best for you," he choked finally.

Gabriella blinked. Once.

"How can-n I b-believe y-you?" she stuttered back emotionlessly. It was as if there was nothing going on in her head. Unfilled, unpossessed, and untaken.

"Because," Troy sputtered helplessly, "I am trying. I care about you. If I didn't care about you, I wouldn't be really thinking it through and telling the truth."

"B-Because you're laz-zy," Gabriella faltered clumsily, a centimeter away from hysterically breaking down in uncontrollable tears. "You're fucking l-lazy so you tell me you d-don't want to put in the t-time. You don't c-care about me. Y-You are a l-lying—ly-ying b-bastar-rd."

The instant that heartbreaking sentence left her mouth, Troy died. He truly was perished by those piercing, fatal words. He felt his throat closing up, his mind fogging over completely. "Wh—what-t?" he jabbered gracelessly, not really feeling himself speaking, his thin lips numb and feeling like they were out of his control to move.

Gabriella was shaking as if she was naked and it was twenty degrees below zero in the room. Her frail bones were trembling and knocking against her skin. Her teeth were shattering frantically. Her dreary eyes were suddenly dry of moisture. She suddenly regretted her choice of words. She knew they weren't true. It was merely the anger and impatience that had driven her to sputter out those false words. She was in denial, and that was the one thing she couldn't deny. She knew she was insecure, and that she had serious problems. How could she not identify, realize, recognize the unnatural, awkward behavior? Her father had been the perfect example.

"I didn't mean that-t," Gabriella hawed apprehensively, biting her lip anxiously in wait of his response. "I take it b-back."

"I take back what I said too," Troy exhaled out exasperatedly, ultimately relieved. He smiled genuinely at her, placing another remaining kiss to her forehead, his tired eyes drifting shut at the warmness of her delicate skin. He pressed his lips to her forehead again and kept them there, just breathing her in. Gabriella didn't seem to mind, but her little form showed no signs of decreasing its firm tension.

"So what's y-your answer?" she finally whispered in a brittle, hollow voice.

Troy let out a haggard breath. "I'm willing to put time into this. Just—give me time to think of a solution. Because I want to be with you. More than anything in the world."

Gabriella crumpled in his arms. "Are you sure?"

"I promise," he whispered lovingly, his lips falling onto her swollen ones sweetly. Gabriella's response was immediate but gentle, and her mouth replied by gnawing softly at his in a sensual form of a kiss. Troy grunted, and Gabriella pulled away, only to glance in his glimmering sapphire eyes and smile amiably at him. Troy's hands slithered up to her breasts as he reconnected their lips, tugging so tenderly at her bottom lip before diving his tongue into her mouth and exploring eagerly. Sparks were shooting every which way. Gabriella was eliciting moans, pouring out of her mouth, and making Troy harden. He just couldn't help himself. Gabriella also felt an aching pulse begin to form between her legs, but there was no way she was up for round three. She was exhausted, and it was only the wee hours of the morning. There was _no way_ she was going to—

But then she suddenly felt Troy's hands slap to her ass, pushing her up his entire body length with his built muscles so she was sitting on his collarbone. Her sore thighs hugged his head on either side, her knobby knees parallel to the top of his skull. And before she could object, she could feel wet and warm darting in and out of her opening, her eyes widening tremendously at the realization of what is was. Her hands flew to his moist hair, balling up handfuls in her tiny fists as his tongue continued to zip around her entrance. "Tr-Troy!" she managed to gasp as pleasure came near in sight, Troy's breathing hitching at the sound of her so aroused. Gabriella's legs reflexively tightened around his head, making Troy moan out. Gabriella could feel fireworks in between them, her stomach flipping and her rationality plunging as she kissed Troy full on the mouth, entirely and boldly, sure of her action. The unendurable throbbing between her legs intensified so much that she felt like she was on fire. She could feel Troy's tongue playing with her clit, the temperatures in the room skyrocketing. She keeled over his head instinctively, gripping Troy's sticky hair with all she had as she tumbled over into ecstasy, her breathing wildly irregular as she collapsed on top of her lover.

"Gab…" Troy whispered softly, a hand levitating up to her head and gently stroking away the dark, ruly hair that was pasted to her face. He reached his other hand above him, and tenderly began to rub her tense, hard thighs that were clamped tightly around his head until they relaxed. "Gabriella…" He cherished the way her name rolled off of his tongue so easily. He couldn't wrench away his eyes, no matter how hard he tried. He was truly hypnotized by her. His eyes were starry and thoughtful as he gazed at her, in a sort of a dreamy reverie, entranced eternally by her natural beauty and manner. He wanted her. He wanted her, and there was no doubt about that. He _had _to save this connection. He could. He would. He knew he needed to put the diligent time into their relationship. Into the problem, and into the solution. But mostly, her.

Troy sighed in sleepiness as he carefully scooped Gabriella into his arms, lowering her down on his defined chest, her head falling onto his skin lazily. Her hand gravitated over his distinct muscles, silently searching for his heartbeat, and placing her palm over the stable rhythm once she found it. "Gabriella…?" Troy whispered again, electricity pumping through his blood at the feel of her hand on his heart. He continued to thread his fingers warmly through her damp hair, admiring the way her heavy eyelids delicately fluttered close. Gabriella's face softened at the velvety sound of his voice, slipping into her ears and uniting with his steady heartbeat to lull her to sleep.

"Troy?" Gabriella croaked weakly, her breathing pattern still rather uneven.

"Yeah?" Troy whispered back lovingly, trying to keep the anxiety low in his voice and his thumb rubbing adoring circles on her shoulder. Gabriella wavered at the ghosting, just-barely-there smoothness of his touch.

"Do you think God f-forgets people sometimes?" Gabriella whimpered timidly in a small voice, almost embarrassed at her question. Troy felt his throat dehydrate of liquid immediately, his heart plummeting and splitting into smithereens for the millionth time in the past few hours.

"Don't say those things, Gabriella," Troy murmured with a chaste kiss to her forehead, pushing her closer to him and pulling the covers higher over their fatigued bodies. Gabriella sighed as she cuddled up closer to her ex-boyfriend, her cheek pressed up against his chest.

"Do you believe in destiny?" she asked in substitution. Troy wasn't sure what was up with all these deep questions. And neither did the girl lying leisurely on top of him, but they were spurting out of her mouth and she had no clue where they were coming from. All she knew was that she desperately needed his answers to them.

Troy choked as he answered truthfully. "I guess I do, because…well, it brought me to you." He coughed lightly before adding reassuringly, "So I guess I do." Gabriella merely nodded, pondering over his response in her head and analyzing it. She wasn't sure why. But it felt like she had to. Troy sighed and wrapped an arm around her petite figure, burying his face into her hair. "Just go to sleep, baby," he said, unable to dismiss the way Gabriella froze at the term of endearment.

"What?" she whispered, her heart thumping at the one paralyzing word. One word. One single word could make the world of a difference.

"Baby. You're my baby," Troy gulped hesitantly, as he thought he might have said the wrong thing. It took everything Gabriella had in her to stop from completely wailing like a little kid. She had cried enough that night. She balled her hands up into fists, as if to control herself. Troy quickly noticed this and immediately began to sputter, as if he could fix it all, "I-I mean, I just…I didn't mean to! It sort of c-came out of my m-mouth…and I wasn't-t thinking at all…because I was j-just so used to calling you that-t…sorry, I won't call you that anymore! I p-promise."

"It's fine," Gabriella flinched uncomfortably. "Don't worry about it. And—I won't call you Hunter anymore. I mean—we're not in San Diego anymore, right? So…um, there are no Hamilton Hunters, are there?" Troy nodded understandingly as he recalled their former high school, Alexander Hamilton High School, where he was on the basketball team. "There are just the—Wildcats? Is that it?" Gabriella bit her lip as she strained herself to remember, squinting as she pondered. Troy couldn't help but smile, as she looked so damn cute thinking so intensely like that.

"Yeah, that's it," Troy confirmed.

"I hear you're Capitan again," Gabriella smirked knowingly.

"You've heard correctly," he answered.

A still, almost strange silence befell the two seniors, tangled together under the bed covers. The eeriness in the atmosphere was rather bizarre, but the awkwardness soon evaporated once Gabriella fell to a peaceful sleep, her bare chest moving up and down with each deep breath she took. Troy couldn't help but take the chance to admire her, pressing a kiss to her forehead before falling asleep himself.

* * *

It all just happened so fast.

First I heard the door swing open, the deafening crack it made once it connected with the wall burning my eardrums. Then I felt Troy's warm fingers on my exposed back, pressing me closer to him protectively, almost as a signal not to look behind me. But how was I not supposed to? I was naked…in bed…with a boy…. My eyes widened as the facts sunk in, and I swiveled around and sat up, pulling the comforter up above my swelled breasts as I did so. And whom else did I come face to face to? None other than my soon-to-be stepbrother. His face was sickeningly pale, and his mouth hung ajar. He was utterly speechless. The air in the room was suddenly so dense that I could barely breathe.

Would Eric tell? He wasn't the guy to do that. But had this gone to far? Possibly and probably.

But Eric just stood there numbly, his feet rooted to the spot, his eyes spiraling down at the unexpected scene. I felt Troy timidly curl a hand on my waist, as if to reassure me he was there. I thought Eric would never speak, when finally he managed to croak in short gasps, "What…the…fucking…_hell_?!" Eric was breathing heavily, just hardly able to control himself. I noticed that I was also breathing heavily, and Troy behind me as well. I was in so much trouble. I choked forcibly at this, my hands absentmindedly floating behind me and searching for Troy's, weaving my fingers through his and squeezing.

"Dude," Troy started desperately. I could feel him trembling, and I knew he was incredibly nervous. "Eric, I can explain."

But Eric didn't want any explaining done. He didn't want to hear bullshit coming from two of his closest friends, whom were currently naked together in bed. I suddenly felt sick to my stomach. What had I done? How could I have been so _stupid_?! My breathing became very raspy and uneven as I began to grow anxious. I could feel myself hyperventilating. What would my mother say? Would she disown me? I knew she did not tolerate any hanky-panky action or this "wild" and "delusional" behavior. She would never expect this to happen. She would be shocked beyond her mind. What would Preppy say? Would he kick me out of the house? What would Elizabeth say? Would she begin to spread rumors at school? I felt lightheaded. Troy noticed, but didn't dare say a thing, only pulling me back closer to him slowly as if Eric wouldn't notice.

"What?" Eric fumed hotly, his face still painfully white. "What?! I'm sorry, but I really don't want to hear the details of what my supposed best friend and stepsister are doing in bed together, when they don't even fucking know each other!" Eric shakily ran his fingers through his hair, steam emitting from his ears. "That's shallow, Troy. Even coming from you. Fucking on my stepsister, who you hadn't even met yet, the night you return from that basketball camp in Nevada. That's—that's really low of you, Troy. Of anyone."

"Eric, it's not like—" I began, feeling bad I wasn't helping Troy in our defense.

"Just—just save it, Gabriella," Eric spat disgustedly, unable to hear anymore. He hastily sprinted from the room and slammed the door shut loudly, leaving Troy and I positively gawking. Neither of us made a move or noise. I felt my stomach churning, and I suddenly leapt up, not caring I was naked, kneeling over the toilet and preparing to vomit. I heard fast, heavy footsteps, and before I knew it, Troy's arms were around me, enveloping me to his chest as I erupted in pitiful tears.

* * *

**A/N: Tada! **


	12. Pouring Hearts

**A/N: Thank you so much to jb1236, rachrep, FeJoy29, JohnKrasinskiLover, OhGollyMissMolly, and smartgirl231814 for their especially wonderful and lengthier reviews, and wow, canada4ever, that was really sweet of you. :D**

**Punk Music Rocks: I know Gabriella cries a lot, but she's insecure and depressed, and you may think it's pathetic, but those people cry a lot with those problems.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Disney or High School Musical or any of these characters except mine. I don't own Sunny D either. **

* * *

_"No, Troy!" his father spat angrily over the phone. "You will go to that basketball camp at the end of this year, okay? Do you know how expensive that was?! It cost me a fucking fortune! Almost half the tuition of one year of college. The best of the best, Troy. The most elite people are going to be there. They will be playing basketball with you. You are going, you hear? You are going, boy, and you will take advantage of every single coach—every single facility—anything, anything, they fucking offer you, you take. You need to take this opportunity and improve. _Comprende_?" Troy closed his eyes momentarily as he swore under his breath. "What?!" The East High basketball coach fumed madly. "Did I just hear the word 'fuck' come out of that dirty mouth of yours?" Troy felt frozen, his muscles stiff as he leaned against the cool brick wall of the school building. _

_"No, sir," Troy gulped forcibly. "You didn't." _

_"Fuck, yes!" The coach barked impatiently. "It better be that way. I don't want a shitty potty mouth as a son. Henry was better than you. Oh yeah, Henry did anything I asked him to. He was obedient and an overachiever. He wasn't a fucking rebel and lazy ass like you. He worked hard. He gave his best in everything, at all times. Unlike you. I can barely believe you two are related. It is a disgrace! He was an all-star basketball player. He got straight A's. Do you know how hard it is to balance both things? And be a loyal boyfriend to Elena, his girl?" _

_"But Dad!" Troy choked in desperate defense. "I—I have straight A's now! I was voted the captain of the varsity basketball team! And I want to ask her out, Dad. I need to ask her out. I can't stop thinking about her…" Troy's breathing became strangely shallow as his thoughts escaped to the gorgeous brunette in his English class. How she stuck the eraser tip of her pencil in her mouth as she pondered her next answer. How she sometimes whispered the reading passage aloud to herself, her silky voice sweet and beautiful. How boring Mr. McGregor was, but how incredibly interesting and thrilling Gabriella made Shakespeare seem, speaking about the literature with such passion. _

_"What are you, some lovesick puppy? It's sickening!" Coach Bolton retorted disgustedly. "That girl is slut anyway." _

_"No, she's not!" Troy stammered defensively, automatically feeling the need to protect her. He felt a hurtful pang in his chest at the judging insult. "You don't even know her, or who she is!"  
"I know she is a slut, Troy. All of your girlfriends are sluts. But Henry's girlfriend wasn't," Jack stated proudly. "Elena was also a straight A student. She was on the scholastic decathlon team. She was part of the chess club and also the French club. She even started her own club to welcome new students. She was the best girl he could have had." Troy knew there was no way he was going to mention his brother's nasty breakup with his ex-girlfriend, and he rolled his eyes at that. "But yours…your girlfriends are always bimbos and whores." Troy felt his face burn at the offending report. _

_"She's different, Dad," Troy sputtered frantically. "I promise." _

_"How can I trust you, boy? I can't trust you." _

_Troy had heard enough. His father could rant angrily and jump to untrue conclusions all he wanted. But Troy had been shoved over the brim. He could feel his heart pounding in his chest, his throat dry and his usually bright eyes pooled with boiling tears. His father had never accepted him, and still didn't. He was never good enough, never satisfactory. Henry, his older brother, had always been the leading light. The shining star, while Troy had wallowed miserably in his dim shadows. Coach Bolton was always disappointed with Troy, and that's how it would always be. Troy couldn't be perfect, but Jack Bolton would never deflate that oversized head of his and realize that. He would never give Troy a break. _

_"Bye, Dad. I've got class," Troy muttered quickly before snapping his phone shut and tucking it away in his pocket, sighing in relief at the end of the discouraging conversation. Mr. Bolton tried calling back a few more times, but Troy didn't respond, only turning off his phone as he wiped his glossy eyes, preparing himself to return to his math class. He threaded his fingers through his shaggy hair, swallowing hoarsely as his thoughts floated off to that unbelievable girl he just couldn't stop thinking about. She was perfect. She really was everything he had always wanted. Everything he had always been searching for, without even knowing he was looking for it. _

_She wasn't like the artistic Natalia Williams, his coloring book alliance and crayon colleague in preschool. She wasn't like the actively social Maddie Simmons, his second grade crush and one-month playground squeeze. She wasn't like his eighth grade lab partner Cecelia Derrick, with the frizzy Sunny D-colored hair that was so big on her head it looked like she had been electrocuted. She wasn't like slutty Latishia Yu back in Albuquerque, her fat ass so gigantic she took up two chairs instead of one. She just…was. With that adorable little smile that just seemed to illuminate her radiant face, her tiny hand always shooting up in class with a correct answer, and the way she tried her best in everything. Gabriella Montez wasn't just a crush. She was an obsession. Troy Bolton didn't care if they had first spoken in a dingy janitor's closet, right after she had vomited into a soap and water bucket. That didn't matter. She was the only that mattered, and he just couldn't wrench his thoughts away. _

_Troy rubbed his temples in order to relax himself as he pursed his lips, reentering the empty building and trekking through the spotlessly clean, vacant hallways to his current class. He stopped abruptly, almost tripping over his own feet, when he heard a sound coming from a narrow janitor's closet on one corner, the same one he had first spoken to Gabriella in. Troy was completely still as he leaned in and pressed his ear to the door hesitantly, alarmed when the noise continued. To his dismay, he was able to recognize the familiar sound easily. _

_A girl. There was a girl crying behind the wooden door. But not just any ordinary girl. His heart broke in distraught as he confirmed the flawless name in his head. _

_Gabriella. _

_Troy tentatively pushed open the creaking door of the janitor's closet, his eyes engorging at the sight of the pretty petite girl, curled up in a ball on the dusty floor. Her slender legs were pulled up to her chest, her skinny arms wrapped tightly around them and her chin resting on knobby knees as she wept, her entire small figure shaking like a terrible earthquake with each pitiful, quavering sob. She didn't seem to notice the towering intruder, only continuing to bawl dejectedly as she felt sorry for herself. The tall, toned boy's face plunged into unexplainably deep sympathy, restraining himself to engulf her in a comforting hug. He could feel his heartbeat slowing down with hers, too tired and too drained to prolong. He suddenly felt a bit nervous as he stood there so idly, quiet and observant of the despondent, diminutive girl coiled up on the floor, her tearstained face hidden from the world. It took a few moments, but he finally mustered up all his courage and managed to squeak like an idiot, "Are you okay?"_

_The wreck of a girl arrested her wails, sniffling, the small sphere that was her head inclining slowly to meet his wonderful cerulean eyes. She gasped at the startling strong connection she felt between them, the new presence making something unidentifiable rise in her body, rocketing wildly through her veins. Gabriella simply stared at him, drinking in his luscious, muscular form and feeling her stomach flip at the beautiful sight of him. It was as if He were a God, sent from the heavens, there to save her. She was completely entranced by his figure, his face, the natural friendly manner he just seemed to effortlessly emit. Then she remembered to speak, shaking her head quickly as if to rid all other thoughts and croaking, "Yeah. I-I'm fine." _

_But she wasn't. She wasn't anywhere near fine. She wanted him to hold her in a loving embrace as she cried, stroking her dark hair tenderly as he soothingly calmed her. She wanted him to rub her back until she fell asleep in his athletically chiseled arms, whispering sweet nothings into her ear until her breathing regulated. She hadn't been able to halt her thoughts of him since their uncomfortable, awkward encounter when she'd thrown up in that very janitor's closet. She was extremely embarrassed yet, but she didn't care if he would become all hers. He was perfect. _

_"Are you sure?" Troy whispered uncertainly, unconvinced. Gabriella gazed profoundly into his mesmerizing eyes, so welcoming and genial. She fought the strong urge to dive on him and devour his mouth and make him want her. She was probably just another brainless chick to him. He had the whole school population, falling at his feet. He could have any girl he wanted. Gabriella knew not to let her imagination wander, knowing that the busy boy would never fall for her. But she never knew he could be so caring like he was being now. In their English class, he sat right behind her, but his buddies sat all around him. As you can imagine, they fooled around constantly, yet somehow, Troy managed to ace all the essays and tests. Gabriella wasn't fond of his persistent joking-around-in-the-back-of-the-classroom thing, partially because she sat right in front of him, but she was pleased with how his grades were topnotch. She almost liked the fact that he broke the stereotype of jocks being dumb, because she knew very well he was a smart guy. _

_They hadn't interfered many times since the vomiting incident, mostly because they were both so embarrassed, shy, and nervous. It was the first time that Troy had really been so hesitant and timid in his life. Worries relentlessly flocked his brain, asking himself what would happen if he messed up around her. He stressed over the smallest things of how he acted around her, and he didn't know why. He suddenly cared how his hair looked; how he smelled; what he wore. It was all so new to him. He had never been in love before, and he hadn't been planning on it either, but boom. Suddenly he was in the midst of feeling the best he had ever felt before. He didn't understand how he could owe it all to one person, and that never ceased to amaze him. _

_Troy sat down beside her carefully, folding his legs and letting his knee touch her side. "Tell me," he whispered gingerly, studying her fallen but beautiful face intently. "You can tell me." Gabriella gazed into his endless eyes, infinite of space and stretching to the galaxy, it seemed. She wanted to swim in that remarkable blend of blues; wade in that deep ocean forever; let the mind-blowing waves of love take over her; not caring one bit if she drowned. She analyzed them absorbedly, taking note of the trouble that seemed strewn between the countless shades of sapphire. She made it her mission to discover why that strip of solemn gray was there—what personal secrets he was keeping behind those mysterious eyes. But they were so tantalizing. So inviting. So fresh and new and exciting, making her feel exhilarated and open and suddenly wanting to know more. She wanted to share, but not without gaining something of her own. _

_"Only if you tell me," she murmured quietly, blinking back the leftover tears. "Only if you tell me," the limp girl repeated faintly, her dreary eyes never once traveling from his own to investigate his physically fit form, pressed up against hers, his rough hands set softly on her waist. _

_"I promise." _

_"I promise." _

_And they openly spilled their lonely hearts out to one another, finally feeling like they found a place in that school. _

_A place in that state. _

_A place in each other. _

_A place in that unfair world. _

* * *

"So you'll call me later?" Troy asked Gabriella frankly as he slipped on his T-shirt, his baby blue orbs locked on his lover's. It was as if their eyes were magnets, always having the craving to be connected with each other's. It was some superior force neither could seem to understand.

She nodded in response, her tired eyes not once leaving his, adding quickly, "And if I don't, I promise I'll text. But Troy, I'm sorry. I just need to find Eric and apologize." The brunette sighed sorrowfully as she pulled the blankets up to her neck, consciously covering over her nude form.

"Look," Troy blubbered clumsily like a fish, nervous as he began running his fingers through his stringy hair. "I know I should be the one going after Eric. And I know I should be going with you at least. But I need to—"

"No, Troy," Gabriella interjected understandingly as he swiftly strode over to her, cupping her pale cheek affectionately in his calloused hand. "I get it. Go to your dad. I'll sort it all out with Eric." Troy stared deeply into his ex-girlfriend's eyes, searching for a hint that she was lying. He felt terrible, leaving her to repair the misunderstanding between her soon-to-be stepbrother while he hastily scurried off to his father's house. Coach Bolton was going berserk at the disappointing news Eric had hurriedly informed him, which was Eric's serve of revenge. Eric had spilled everything to the infuriated Jack Bolton shortly after exiting, and Troy's father had immediately phoned his son and demanded him home at once. Troy had no choice but to go. He sighed unhappily as he knew the information was only more of a reason to backup his father's claim that all his girlfriends were sluts.

"I'm so sorry, Gabriella," Troy whispered gravely, pressing his rosy lips to her smooth forehead. Gabriella's eyes fluttered close at the astounding touch, sparks flying in the air between them. "You know I don't want it to be like this."

"I know," Gabriella replied desolately. Troy leaned downed down and brushed his lips against her softly, her velvety skin moist and warm against his. "I haven't forgiven you yet, Troy. And I still don't trust you but…" She sighed as she bit her lip. "I need you." She paused thoughtfully. "I'll be thinking of way to make this work, Troy." Troy nodded in eager agreement, his fingers intertwining with hers.

"As will I," he murmured in her dark hair before pulling away unwillingly, walking backwards to Gabriella's white balcony door. "Call me, okay?"

"I will," Gabriella smiled genuinely, picking up her sweater from the floor and sliding it over her head, standing up and walking over to her closet. "I promise." Troy grinned a final time, despite the fact that he was going to get a major whipping at home, scampering out of her room and down the tree beside the balcony. Gabriella couldn't help notice the smile plastered to her face, feeling so natural with Troy now.

They had cleared everything up before. After Eric had left, they had sat in the bathroom curled up together, and completely poured their hearts out, not leaving a single detail out. It had reminded Gabriella sharply of that time they had first opened up to each other, cooped up in that haunting janitor's closet. Gabriella knew he was just trying his best. She knew that, but there were still wounds he had caused her that only time could help heal. Troy understood that, and was willing to wait. They had both confirmed once more that they were going to figure out a solution together, and put the time into their relationship if needed. Gabriella knew now that he was different there in Albuquerque. Troy admitted he was an asshole in New Mexico, but was trying so _so _hard not to be. He was told her what to expect, and Gabriella drank it all in, formulating and discussing with him how they were going to deal with Troy's different personalities. Gabriella was going to give him a chance. It was the least she could do. She truthfully felt relieved after that lengthy, honest conversation, almost feeling refreshed and definitely much more at ease with him.

Now they just needed to think up a way to patch up their wobbly relationship.

Gabriella quickly got dressed, rushing out into the hall and yelping as her small foot came in contact with someone else's, and she immediately knew whom it was at the honey scent filling the air. "Oh!" Victoria squealed. "I'm sorry, Gabriella—I didn't see you! I didn't mean to step on your foot, really!" Victoria sputtered fretfully. Her light brown hair flowed down her back perfectly, and she safely tucked a stray tendril behind her ear. "Really, Gabriella, I didn't mean—"

"—It's fine," Gabriella interrupted reassuringly, waving her hand to convince her. She truly didn't have the time to hear Victoria continue to apologize until she was on her knees. Time was ticking and rapidly running out. "Sorry, I didn't see you coming. I'm a in a bit of a hurry…um, do you know where Eric is?" Gabriella asked anxiously, her pulse beginning to quicken. She needed to find him before he could do any damage. Before her mother and Preppy found out.

"He went to my mother's," Victoria aided cooperatively. Her big blue eyes seemed to smile at Gabriella in their own sweet way. "One twenty-eight Coopersville Road. He looked a little mad—"

"—Thanks!" Gabriella gasped exasperatedly as she raced down the hallway, not waiting for Victoria to finish her ramble.

She needed to get to Charity's as fast as she could.

* * *

**A/N: Voila! **

**And yes, the flashback in the beginning was the same memory Gabriella remembered. **


	13. Lying Hypocrite

**A/N: Thank you so much to runninequalslife, jb1236, rachrep, FeJoy29, JohnKrasinskiLover, OhGollyMissMolly, and smartgirl231814 for their especially wonderful and lengthier reviews.**

**-EVERYONE: My personal laptop was taken away, and that includes the loss of access to the part of this chapter where Gabriella goes to Charity's. I didn't want to make you guys wait, so I decided to write about Troy's problem with his dad first, because I really, really don't want to have to rewrite that other bit over. I worked really hard. :( I'm truly sorry. If in the end, I do not get my laptop back in time, I will rewrite the chapter. I am terribly sorry if this chapter does seem to live up to the others, or if it seems a bit rushed, but I have tried my best in the current conditions.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Disney or High School Musical or any of these characters except mine. I also don't own Victoria's Secret.**

* * *

Troy knew what was coming. He tried to deal with his jackass of a father as least as possible, but of course, there were just some particular things the basketball captain couldn't evade, no matter how excellent his jump shot had been in the last game.

Like on that ironically dazzling and sunny Sunday morning.

Troy had never driven so fast in life. He slammed his foot on the pedal, the wheel spinning effortlessly in his rigid hands as he recklessly raced down the thankfully empty road. Faster and faster he persisted, dangerously accelerating the hazardous speed of the contraption, his heart thrashing wildly and pounding more rapidly as did the car did. The September air whipped nastily at his agonizingly attractive features, and he frantically shook the sandy hair out of his tantalizing cobalt eyes, which were set permanently to the road. His hands were trembling on the leather-covered driving wheel, his lungs closing and gradually giving up on him as his nervousness increased. "Almost there," he whispered reassuringly to himself, needing that extra boost of courage as he screeched to a halt a couple houses down from Coach Bolton's fine residence. He pulled up expertly, urgently calming down his flustered mind.

He could do this. He had to, and there was no possible exception. For Gabriella. She was the vital element that kept him going; what forced him forward, no matter how excruciatingly painful, all those endless months. Quivering, desperate whispers of truth, "I need you," and "I'd die without you," echoed hauntingly in his consumed brain as he set his ruddy truck in parking, his head aching at the sudden swarm of thoughts. He blinked his glimmering, fogged eyes furiously, not believing this was all happening, as he wrenched open his vehicle's door and crashed it shut again once he was out. He was so jittery. For some reason, it felt like it was his ultimate duty to protect Gabriella. To shield her from the unsafe worlds of the unknown, to act as her bodyguard in any time of need, and to defend her valiantly in front of any threatening offender.

He would be there. He would always be there. Gabriella didn't know that. She didn't understand. He needed his lover to know and understand. He needed her to believe in him. And this exactly was a rightful chance where he could prove himself of his claims.

Troy's large, rough hands were still wavering unmanageably as he knocked hesitantly on the red-painted door, so dreadfully familiar it made him ache. Troy heard heavy thumps in the distance, steadily nearing and loudening as they approached the entrance. The door was edgily yanked open to reveal the angriest Jack Bolton his son had ever glimpsed. White-hot steam was practically emitting from his ears, like they did in those loony cartoons. His handsome face was illuminating deep crimson, and his teeth were grinding in an intimidating manner in the back of his mouth. Troy had never been so afraid of his father, and it suddenly settled in again how much he had really despised him. The older Bolton's identical eyes darted up and down his child's built figure, investigating him for just a spare moment. Troy felt uneasy under his father's judging eye, or for that matter, in his presence in total. Mr. Bolton swallowed forcibly as his eyes met with the younger generation's.

"Troy," he gulped hoarsely. His jaw clinched threateningly as he spoke, straining himself to keep his raging emotions bottled up inside of him.

"Coach," Troy greeted apprehensively, trying not to take the anxious step backward.

It was silent between the two related men. Troy stared down aimlessly at his basketball sneakers, caked with brittle dirt and dried mud, a few ripped fragments of leaves adhered along. His mind was remote as he tried not to focus on his father, glaring at Troy with the most awful sneer he'd ever witnessed. Why was he here again? He had to remind himself repeatedly for a surge of determination and reassurance. Troy knew very well he was in line for some good infuriated ranting, and most likely some abusing. An angry series of punches, smacks, and hits usually followed an irritated argument. And pathetic enough for him to think it, he was used to it. The teenage boy was growing fidgety under the microscope his father had him under, and he desperately offered a more comfortable alternative, plunging in and taking the brave risk.

"How about we got inside?" Troy suggested boldly, not waiting for an objecting reply he knew was coming and moving past the taller of the two into the recognizable house. It had remained almost exactly the same, he noted instantly. It had scarcely changed. The satisfactory house was still a hopeless mess, just slightly tidier, dirty clothes strewn carelessly about among forgotten deflated basketballs. A posed portrait of his proud brother Henry dwelled on the mantle above the abandoned fireplace, and a smaller one of a beaming, six-year-old Troy just to the side, a basketball clutched securely to one side. But what really struck Troy was the smell. It smelled peculiarly different. He couldn't quite put his finger on what it smelled like, but it was certainly a fishy mystery he was keen to solve.

His father had secrets. Lots of them—_countless _of them, and kept them locked tightly and out of harm's way inside him. He never shared them. Not to a single soul. It was as if they were sheltered in a treasure chest, and only he had the key. Troy's own benevolent, loyal mother had never even known any, and a fiery dispute about them had sparked the detachment of what eventually led to their brutal divorce. Troy had always pined to uncover one of those secrets, ever since he was a little boy and realized that his father kept them. Coach Bolton was often up to no good, as Troy experienced firsthand, though he never knew exactly what. But this time, maybe Troy could discover what he was trying so hard to hide.

Troy gravitated solo over to the unclean kitchen, the grimy sink cluttered with used dishes, glasses, and utensils. It was so classic of Jack Bolton that Troy had to stop himself from rolling his eyes. Mr. Bolton soon came towering into the room after Troy, his form looking stockier than ever. Troy innocently sat down at a counter stool, not daring to bat an eyelid incase that was against his father's strict rulebook. Jack Bolton halted in front of his almost grown son, giving him a stern look, his angular features terribly sharp. Troy pressed his lips together under the smoldering gaze of his controlling parent, so horribly intense he thought he would explode under the pressure. The coach's features hardened even more, if possible. The harsh quality to his face elevated to a point where it was so strong, Troy wondered at how on the planet he had kept the boiling frustration all inside.

"So," Mr. Bolton began on the primary problem. "I wake up this morning to a hasty call from Eric, informing me that he found you naked in bed with the girl that would be his stepsister in two months." Jack Bolton's eyes were glowing with furious anger, boring down unsympathetically at his son. Troy shrunk down at his perch on his stool. "Now tell me, Troy: WHAT IN GOD'S NAME ON THIS EARTH WHERE YOU THINKING?!" Jack's face was flamed to the deepest, darkest shade of red Troy had ever seen. His eyeballs were bulging out of his sockets. His face read of such shamed disgust that Troy cringed and yearned to hide from the scary sight.

"I wasn't thinking," Troy admitted embarrassedly, drenched in his father's volcanic eruption of repulsion.

"That's right, boy!" Coach Bolton spat distastefully. "That's right. You never think. What kind of bastard would do such a foul thing?! Only you, Troy. I'm revolted. It's always the same deal with you, and you never learn your lesson! You can't waste your time screwing brainless cheerleaders—"

"—She wasn't a cheerleader!" Troy interjected penetratingly, feeling a sharp pang in his chest at the accusation of Gabriella being an airheaded slut. His elegant face toughened with escalating repugnance.

"_Don't _interrupt me, bastard!" Jack Bolton continued sordidly. He spoke as if his mouth tasted sour with a peculiar substance, and he was trying to rid of all the unwelcome bitterness. Troy flinched at the stabbing insults. He had heard them all an immeasurable amount of times, yet they always seemed to knife through him just as horrifically as the previous time. "As I was saying, you can't trash away all this valuable time by fucking on all these stupid whores! You've got to focus and channel all your time and energy into basketball," the coach commanded vilely. "Which brings me to another troublesome topic…" Troy grimaced bracingly as he knew exactly what was coming. He had been praying and crossing his fingers that his father would either avoid the issue or forget altogether, but of course he knew that would only happen when Martians invaded America.

"Dad, I—" Troy began desperately, as if he could still salvage himself.

"_No_, Troy! Listen to me!" Coach sputtered ruthlessly, violently banging a sturdy fist against the kitchen counter. Troy winced at the startling action. "WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING HERE?! You aren't supposed to be here for another two weeks _at least_!" Troy shook his head vigorously as he stared expressionlessly at his feet, surprised when boiling tears threatened to spill from his gleaming cyan eyes. "YOU RAN AWAY?! DO YOU EVEN FUCKING KNOW HOW MUCH THAT COST ME?!" Troy opened his mouth to speak, but the older Bolton cut him off before he even let out a derisory squeak. "And on top of that, you don't tell me! Or _anyone_, for that matter! You just romp off to some random sex-crazed bimbo and satisfy your own greedy needs!" Mr. Bolton's hands quivered perilously. His eyes spiraled down on his humiliated disgrace of a son. "Selfish Troy. So typical."

It took everything he had inside of the senior teenager to keep his rationality in the clear front of his brain. Troy clenched in own fists tightly, his nostrils flaring as he kept his irritation and security under the lid and resisted an uncontrollable explosion. He knew once he started on a irate rant, he would never be able to stop. He knew he got his irrepressible temper from his father, as sad as it was to say. "She's not random," Troy whispered lowly through gritted teeth as he strained himself to secure his burgeoning displeasure. "She's my—girlfriend," he blurted courageously before he knew what he was saying. His eyes widened slightly as the unchangeable words flowed from his mouth and he realized which words they had been. _Good going, Bolton. _

"Girlfriend?" Jack inquired perplexedly. "You have a girlfriend? Your girlfriend is Eric's stepsister?!" Troy heaved a tired sigh as he pursed his lips, thoroughly thinking through his next response.

"Yes," he whispered sullenly, frightened he may get into trouble with Gabriella for the declaration, but not caring much as he just needed to save himself at the moment.

"Why…how?" the coach questioned flabbergasted, his dark eyebrows knitting together in the center as his eyes thinned to baffled slits. "Did you know her from here, and then kept in touch while you were away? What about that other idiot whore you wanted to ask out?"

Troy was caught in the middle of a very serious situation. He just wanted scuttle away to Gabriella, have her soothe him and run her fingers through his hair as she whispered consoling words to him in that silky voice of hers. He needed her advice. Troy rubbed the back of his neck tensely. He switched his gaze to his dirt-crusted sneakers, feeling heat creep up his neck. "Um…yeah, I kept in touch with her over the time…we weren't really dating…I ventured the field a bit…but then at one point I asked her to be my girlfriend and she agreed…so…" Mr. Bolton gave his lying son a dour, relentless look, as if covering up the urge to burst, "Fucking liar!" Troy could easily see he was fraught to crack the truth out him.

"Troy."

Troy's head instantaneously snapped up to meet his father's uncompromising face. Troy gulped nervously. The atmosphere in the room instantly doubled, as Troy already knew he was dead meat. Butchered, sliced up, cooked, and dressed in pitiless mockery to be set on the dinner table that supper. Eaten eventually. That was Jack Bolton's form of cruel slaughter. "Yes?" Troy choked fearfully as Mr. Bolton eyed his son suspiciously. Troy cowered down at his uncomfortable glare.

"You are liar, boy. A filthy hypocrite." The words speared through Troy's aching heart like a dagger. His spirits plunged gravely and he sank down dejectedly on his counter stool. He was never enough. And Coach Bolton was never near finished. "You don't even go screwing girls in the first place, young man. Whatever happened to sex _after_ marriage? You're the type of baked bachelor who'll be wasting all of your insignificant money on poor, demanding prostitutes the second you get to college." He coughed rudely. "That is, if you get into one. They'd never want you if they knew the kind of false person you are." Troy recoiled at his hurtful words. Jack would never stop, and that was a fact. "She's not even your girlfriend, I bet." He sniggered uncouthly. "You sneak. You _dirty _little liar."

Troy's mouth dropped open in protest. "She _is _my girlfriend! I fucking swear—"

"What ever happened to keeping that mouth clean, eh, Troy?" Mr. Bolton smirked devilishly. "Don't make me make you wash your mouth with soap again." The evil appearance of his face caused Troy's stomach to churn queasily. He had never once seen his father so berserk or so full of fury.

"Hypocrite."

"Look who's talking, Troy boy," the older of the two seethed wickedly.

Troy knew he was trespassing into hazardous waters even moments before the words spewed from his mouth. "Shut up."

It happened almost too fast for it all to register in his brain. He saw his father's anger—the hardened features—and smack, his palm had viciously connected with his cheek, involuntarily providing it with a flushed color. Troy's mouth hung ajar as he gently kneaded his stinging, pink cheek. He felt something warm and wet on his fingertips. He drew away his hand to examine the substance. It glimmered bright red, his heart hammering ferociously against his chest as he mentally labeled the liquid. And before he could return his own malicious revenge, Jack Bolton had thrown anther immoral punch to his son. Troy staggered back reflexively at the strong force, holding the bridge of his nose lightly. Vivid blood dripped steadily onto his white basketball sneakers, glinting in the sun shining through the open windows. His nose was humming with unbearable pain, his cheek still burning at the contact.

"You can't see her," Jack breathed irregularly, rather disbelieving at what he had just done, no matter how many times he had done the same thing before. His expression was terrifyingly blank, his blue eyes starry and glazed as he kept his eyes locked on the limp figure near the wall. "I forbid you to see your supposed girlfriend…whomever this bitch turns out to be." He croaked again, "You can't see her. You're…you're grounded. Basketball. You're going to be playing basketball twenty-four seven. I don't care if you don't sleep at night. You're going to make up for the money you lost me, and there's no way out. _Capice_?" Troy nodded robotically, the stiffness in his neck strengthening as he blinked back the sweltering tears. He was not the man to cry. Especially in front of his disapproving father. "Now sit down, and act like a proper man." Troy quickly obeyed, retaking his seat.

Mr. Bolton began making a big breakfast for some reason, which consisted of waffles, toast, sausages, bacon, pancakes—you name it, all the while Troy sulked on the stool in his pools of misery. He needed Gabriella. He didn't care about his father. He didn't care how much trouble he would be in. He just needed Gabriella, and he would find a way to be with her, no matter what the circumstance. Under the counter, he stealthily retracted his phone from his pocket and texted her furtively. _I've got a solution. _This could work. Maybe this really was their chance to go back to normal. He tucked his phone back safely back into his pocket, waiting restlessly for the brunette beauty to reply.

"Oh, Jack, you really shouldn't have!"

Troy jerked suddenly at the high, nasally voice, which was so foreign to him. His eyes dashed around the room, searching frantically for its producer, when he noticed the voice was coming from the stairs. A tiny, short blonde appeared in the kitchen, wearing, to Troy's utter astonishment, a skimpy black negligee. "Holy fuck!" was the first comment that entered Troy's fretful mind, though he didn't dare say it aloud. He couldn't even believe it. He barely noticed the uproarious vibrating in his pocket below him, his gaze permanent to the unexpected intruder. It was as if Mr. Bolton had forgotten Troy's presence in the room, enveloping one fit arm around the large-chested woman, who was so short, the sight of her half as small as Coach Bolton was actually quite comical. Her plump breasts were literally spilling from its confines, her ass almost as ridiculously huge as Latishia Yu's. And that was rather impossible.

"Sage, last time you bothered to make be a grand breakfast, so now…" Jack grinned gallantly. "I return the favor. Oh, and sorry for the noise. I didn't mean to wake you. It's just my son—" But Sage cut him off as she pecked him a chaste kiss, their lips lingering for that additional, prized moment. Troy turned his eyes away instantly, unable to watch the gag-worthy scene. Jack's staying hand crept to Sage's ass, cupping one buttock firmly in his rough hand. Troy closed his eyes from the sickening scene as if he were a five-year-old. Jack bent down and whispered something naughty in her ear, a trickle of obnoxious giggles following from the platinum blonde's pert, slightly parted lips. Troy noted her jagged mouth was somewhat square, her vast, sea green eyes indistinguishable to a cat's. They were relatively Halloweenish, actually, and Troy shuddered at this.

"Oh you bad boy," Sage swatted a hand at his chest teasingly as Jack stared down at her adoringly, completely entranced. She giggled unattractively as she shook her dyed yellow head, which seemed far too large for her curvy, petite body. She dug her big face into the coach's humid neck, and Jack chuckled freely as he caressed the small of her back. Troy could feel the bile rising in his throat, smoldering it like hot acid. His cerulean eyes glossed over and simmered feverishly, his fists balling heatedly. He just couldn't take anymore. Fresh tears presented in his vacant eyes again, ablaze at the rims.

What was next? How could he not have known? A series of frenzied questions trotted madly through his mind. How long had this been going on for? Did his mother know? Were they living together? Where they going to get married? Was she pregnant? What did she know? His sore heart arrested and his bleeding nose congested immediately as one particular painful question plummeted into his brain, and he knew the answer to this one.

His father was the biggest hypocrite ever to grace the galaxy.

"Dad," Troy croaked futilely. "Um, I'm going to go to my room."

He didn't want to be around for the explanations. It was nauseating. He thought he was going to vomit, all over that lacy Victoria's Secret lingerie of hers.

"Oh!" Jack Bolton's head swiveled around to see his perturbed son, squirming agitatedly on his stool as his eyes dodged around. "Sage, this is my son, Troy." The bubbly pair turned around, arms still intertwined and splayed all over. Sage's sickly tight-lipped smile was more than Troy could hardly handle. He bit his tongue hard as he managed not to give an insane scream or hysterical outburst.

"Ah, Troy," Sage murmured awkwardly. Troy could tell she was trying to remember a time when Jack had told her about him. Jack laughed nervously as he mumbled, just barely coherent, in her ear, "This is the disobedient, badly behaved one." Sage nodded knowingly as she suddenly seemed to recall a distant conversation, which had included her client's two sons. "So…you're back from…?"

"Basketball camp," Troy stammered uneasily. "In, uh, Nevada." His eyes trailed down to her toned naval, where an emerald green bellybutton ring glistened smugly.

"Nevada." She tried to make conversation, warming Troy up the best she could. She'd already warmed up one Bolton; wasn't one enough? Apparently not. "I've never been."

"There's almost no one there," Troy muttered in a muffled manner, greatly annoyed. There was just this unbearable, toxic way about her that made him want to retch. He felt another frantic vibrating on his thigh. _Oh God…Gabriella…She might think I am avoiding her. _

"So you're really competitive with basketball?" Sage inquired, feigning her unobvious interest. Jack stroked the length of her back, up and down and up and down. Troy was growing dizzy. He set a hand on the counter to steady his body, and he quickly recomposed himself.

"Uh…" Troy dragged on, his voice dwindling. Jack grunted in disapproval. "Yeah. Yeah, I am."

"You like it?"

"Um…yeah. Sure, I do," he answered unconvincingly. He was a centimeter away from blowing up in front of his father and his new girlfriend, and he knew he had to get out of there before he did. "Uh…nice meeting you. Dad, I've got to go…clean my sneakers." Sage had not noticed the blood, dried on his basketball sneakers. Troy's phone vibrated again, and he swallowed hoarsely. "Alright…see you later." Troy quickly fled out of the kitchen, feeling the intolerable pain of his nose returning at full force. He stopped immediately as he heard their taunting voices.

"You're right. He is a screw-up. What an asshole. I feel so sorry that you have to live with him."

"I know. The last couple of years without him has been bliss."

"I can imagine."

"Oh yeah. He's a total mental patient. Not useful for a single thing. I've been trying to tame him. He's a wild one, but I try."

"Oh, you're so _brave_."


	14. Charity's A Givin'

****

A/N: Thank you so much to runninequalslife, jb1236, rachrep, and JohnKrasinskiLover for their help and concern with this chapter. I was a bit stuck, to be honest.

**Disclaimer: I do not own Disney or High School Musical or any of these characters except mine. Or Peter Pan. Or Martha Stewart.**

* * *

"Oh, Gabriella!" was how Charity Wheaton elatedly greeted me at her front door, patting me a friendly hug as if I already knew her. She swiftly invited me in, insistently ushering me to make myself at home and sit at the marble kitchen counter, where she was brewing up a pot of raspberry tea that truly smelled delicious. I curiously peered at the substance searing in the tiny cauldron, commenting candidly, "That looks really good, Mrs. Wheaton." The divorced woman only shook her head and demanded I call her Charity. Without missing a beat, she then politely offered me some of the boiling beverage, but I was completely agape, still so astounded by her magnificent home that I could barely answer. I managed to yelp out a shy little word of agreement, my anxious eyes dodging all over the marvelous work of art restlessly.

The beautiful, quality house was just barely smaller than Preppy's. It was an enormous, antique Victorian with involved paint designs all over the storybook house, the roof of the mansion carved so intricately that the house accurately appeared more of a creative effort of art than a piece of architecture. The colossal residence seemed old, yet in flawless condition. There were framed canvases hung up everywhere, seeming to cover every inch of the brightly colored walls, hallmarked by Charity's scribble signature. The furniture was all brand new, yet seemed to match the character of the house perfectly, and the environment just seemed so blithely blissful and at ease. It was a comfortable setting, and the sun prolifically gleamed through the open windows and filled the room with a special glow.

"Thanks," I smiled genially to the former Mrs. Wheaton as she placed a steaming teacup of dark amber-colored liquid, a hint of red blended within the warm brown color. I blew at it a little before positioning my lips at the edge, tipping the cup just a bit as a few drops slipped in my mouth. My eyes engorged almost immediately. It tasted amazing. It was a natural, sweet flavor, and unlike anything I'd ever tasted before. "Wow!" I exclaimed as I retreated, my eyes widening even more. "That's really good. Where'd you learn to make this?"

"My mother," Charity smiled merrily. "She was always making this tea in the kitchen, bless her."

I flashed her an innocent smile. "Excuse me, I've got to use the...ladies room."

"Alright then, darling, it's just around the corner. If I'm not here, I'm getting something from the downstairs fridge."

"Okay." I scooted out of my seat and easily found the lavatory. Unsurprisingly, it was spotless. It looked like it had come straight out of a Martha Stewart magazine. When I finished my business, I hovered back into the kitchen to find it empty. I only had to wait a handful of minutes, thankfully.

"Sweetie?" A scintillating Charity returned striding nobly into the kitchen, an authentic smile embossed lively on her face. She was gleefully beaming, a radiant aura about her just making her glow like an energetic firefly. "What do you prefer? Sausages or bacon?"

I was utterly bemused. She was going to cook me breakfast? Talk about being a hospitable hostess. I was truly honored, but I couldn't accept the generous offer. "No thank you…Charity…" I blubbered powerlessly, unsure exactly how to let her down. I wasn't sure why it was so difficult. Maybe it was because she was so delightfully munificent and convivial, so animated and bubbly and forward. I was only disagreeing to a meal; not informing her my disliking opinion of her funky dress, which was revoltingly dreadful. I tried to ignore the neon splashes of Macintosh red and watermelon pink and Kelly green, splattered imaginatively all across her vibrant dress as if the garment had been her experimental painting smock. It had a hideous Peter Pan collar, with goldenrod-colored speckles stained all over the coarse material. I internally cringed.

"Oh, sorry! If you like neither, I can make ham!" she offered accommodatingly, hope tinged into her glittery, effervescent voice. Her massive, encompassed baby blue eyes, which were identical to Victoria's, sparkled magnificently as they creased amiably in the morning sunlight, the memorable vibe of honesty and kindness radiating off of her and spreading like wildfire. The glimmering sky-colored orbs seemed to smile kindheartedly in their own comforting way. Maybe that was why it was so hard to say no to her.

"No, Charity, I just—no thank you. I mean, thank you for the…charitable…offer, but I couldn't…" I trailed off vulnerably, feeling stings of heat sloth up to my flushed cheeks. I squirmed somewhat in my seat.

"Why? Have you already eaten? Sorry, I should've asked you first…" Charity bit her lip harshly, as if it were a substitute for smacking herself at the simple mistake.

"Um, no," I mentally grimaced for saying so, immediately realizing my dumb blunder. "I just feel bad that you're making food just for me…Really Charity I was just here to—just to…" I sighed, discouraged.

"Oh, don't be!" she chirped cheerfully in that stretched, high pitch of hers. Her expression was delighted as the merry smile never once ghosted from her face. "I'm not just feeding you. Elizabeth is probably hungry too."

Whoa.

It was like I could hear the deafening tires screeching perilously in the back of my jumbled head.

Elizabeth was here. That seemed to make all the sense. If I were a wild partier like Elizabeth, I, too, would seek welcome refuge at a soothing place like this. A safe place where she could get back up on her feet after a crazy, spontaneous night. A secure place where she could do whatever the hell she wanted, and not receive any sort of severe trouble for it. A harmless place were no soul would ever hear a word of what happened just mere hours formerly. It seemed like an ideal place to reboot. Especially when you have a tender, easygoing pushover for a mother like Charity. I felt like I could finally understand the complicated teenager perfectly, for just one split second.

And then it all vanished just as quickly.

Elizabeth came tumbling in numbly like a dazed zombie, still wholly asleep and a total mess. Her golden, red-accented hair was violently disheveled, strands sticking up statically on end in the most bizarre of places. The snakeskin slits she had in exchange for eyes seemed completely converged, and her ginger ale-hued freckles seemed to particularly pop out. She waded over slowly to a wooden chair, weakly dragging it out and crumbling feebly into the salvaging seat. She rubbed her firmly closed eyes with her balled fists exhaustedly, a weary yawn evading from between her slightly parted lips as she lolled her heavy head aimlessly on the back of the wooden chair.

"Good morning, Lizzie," Charity tweeted gaily as she pecked a motherly kiss on her daughter's forehead. "Sausages, bacon, or ham?" Elizabeth shrugged her shoulders sluggishly, and rubbed her shut eyes thoroughly again. "Yes, I know. You're still tired, sweetie," Charity sighed knowingly as she petted the sophomore's blonde head sympathetically. "So, Gabriella. It's all up to you. Sausages, bacon, or ham?" Charity questioned inquisitively.

"Um…" I started blankly. It didn't matter which one I chose as long as I chose one. "Bacon. Why not bacon." It was the first one that had festinated into my mind.

"Ooh, good choice," Charity winked towards me leniently, swiftly exiting the table and rummaging through the refrigerator and shelves as she began to prepare the food.

I still had to tell Charity why I was here.

"Uh, Charity?" I asked apprehensively. Charity did not pause her cooking. Her back was still facing me when she answered.

"Yes, sweetheart?" she squeaked in that elevated, peeping tone.

"Is Eric here?" I inquired finally, breathing out profoundly in a considerable flood of relief.

"Is that why you came?" Charity bowed down low to ransack enthusiastically through the bottom cabinets, just underneath the expansive porcelain sink.

"Yes."

"I'm afraid he's not here, darling," Charity sighed helplessly as she poked her brunette head into the cupboard and continued to forage heartily through the unaided muddle. "Are you looking for him?"

"Yes," I replied shortly. I glanced furtively at Elizabeth, who had shattered and fallen asleep across her arms on the table. Her yellow reddish mane veiled her soft-formed features, creating a sort of curtain around her face. I realized for the first time, that she was actually sort of, well…pretty. And not because she was blonde or fit or young. If she weren't such a slut, her blossoming beauty would have been more obvious, but there was just that demanding, evil spangle in her dark green eye that frightened everyone away. And finally, seeing her in this vulnerable and exposed state, I understood that she was just a lost, petrified girl, who had no control of her life and fucked simply because that was the only thing she actually had command of. I couldn't help but feel deep pity and empathy for the poor tenth grader. What did she have to live for in life?

I suddenly felt a rambunctious vibrating sensation on my thigh, and I pressed my palm to my convulsing cell, confirming my suspicions that it indeed was my phone. I stealthily extracted the device, only to find that Troy had just texted me. An exuberant grin immediately illuminated my drained face. I blushed cherry red at just the fact that he couldn't go an hour without communicating with me in some way. My insides warmed instantly and melted to pure gush as I opened the message. _I've got a solution. _That's what it read. I felt my heart flutter colorfully with hope. Maybe we could finally get out of this ridiculous wreck. I just wanted everything to be blissful and whole, like it used to be. I was willing to do anything to save our relationship, because I loved Troy and I couldn't bear to let him go. I wanted to fix this, and we could. _What is it? _I texted back rapidly, my fingers flying across the letter tabs of my iPhone. I slipped the slick electronic back into my pocket, the delicious fumes of Charity's gourmet pancakes invigorating my senses as she carefully carried over the platter piled with flattened discs.

"Here, girls," Charity smiled cordially, cautiously lowering the dish in the center of the table. Elizabeth seemed to have awoken from the alluring aromas of the marvelous, fluffy pancakes, stirring her pounding head and opening one eye groggily to study the breakfast before her. She approved with a vague nod of her tousled head, forking the top few and slopping the lot onto her ceramic plate carelessly. I didn't make a sound, politely helping myself to a pancake as Charity returned with a pottery jug of fresh maple syrup. Elizabeth snatched the flagon roughly from her mother's nimble hands and drowned her pancakes in the amber liquid, her blunted eyes sparking hungrily at the feast created. I frowned as I reached for the pitcher after her, neatly oozing just a dribble of syrup on my plate. Elizabeth ripped heatedly at the pancake with her pearly whites, practically swallowing the entire chunk of morsel whole. I pursed my lips as I cut my pancake with my knife and fork efficiently, impatiently yet silently waiting for Troy to respond to my message. I had this unbearable yearning to hear his smooth and sexy voice, to hear his words. My stomach flipped outrageously just thinking about him.

I knew I had to get going, but I also knew that I had to finish this meal I'd already begun. It would be very disgraceful and rude to leave in the middle of the wonderful breakfast Charity had obviously put the time into, and a terrible impression. I strained a tired sigh as I chewed on a slice of pancake, tapping my foot ever so lightly on the edge of the chair. I was getting worried that Troy wasn't replying. He usually was incredibly fast when it came to texting, and texting back. Clumps of minutes passed. After just over half of an hour, I texted him again anxiously. _Are you okay? Talk to me. _I slid the electronic back in my pocket, standing up and announcing that I'd better leave. Charity gave me a sad smile, and I couldn't help but consider that she was lonely living alone without her children. I felt sorry for leaving, but I was frantic to speak to Troy and then find Eric. The second I absented Charity's mansion, I dialed Troy's number.

"Troy?" I whispered tentatively into the mouthpiece. I heard perturbing muffles on the other end, making my heart begin to mallet madly in fearful anticipation. "Troy? Troy, it's Gabriella."

His voice was struck with immense panic and terror. "Gabi," he choked dependently, his manner signaling he was helpless. He hadn't called me by that special nickname in so long that I felt my knees wobble and weaken. I steadied a clammy hand against my car hood to balance myself properly. "Gabi, I need to see you," he croaked desperately, his deep tone so anxious and distraught that I felt my aching heart crack and sink to the bottom of the untamed ocean. I was so unbelievably worried, unnerving possibilities jetting through my mind at a distressing rate. I instantaneously wrenched open the door of my car, revved the vehicle to an immediate start, and sped my way out of there eccentrically, rumbling down the streets like a delusional monster. "Stay on," he whispered haggardly, his voice trembling dangerously. "Stay with me, baby." My stomach jolted at the devoted term of endearment, not minding the name one bit that time. It was honestly remarkably comforting to hear, the equivalent to him outstretching a soft hand to stroke my cheek.

"I'm right here," I murmured gingerly in return, my voice unknowingly soothing for him, slamming my tiny foot on the pedal aggressively. "I'm coming for you, baby." Troy didn't even smirk at the double pun, his gorgeous features gauntly serious on the other end. For a sheer minute, it felt like everything was back to normal, the way it used to be; at least our relationship. It had been that way the past day since I'd encountered him. There were just flashes of time when I could feel our old relationship screening through under the disarrayed jumble, and it made me feel so hopeful and safe to know we still kindled the blaze of our old relationship, still yawning inside us. Those influential, moving flashes from the past were what pushed me forward to repair our chaotic situation.

"No, go to your house. I'll meet you there," he gasped unevenly. I could tell he was running. This only got me more paranoid and alarmed. "I'll be in your room."

"Are you okay, love?" I asked concernedly, my heart thumping faster at his severely grave character. "Fuck, Troy, I'm worried about you," I whispered in a small, scared voice. I raced through a red light after scanning the area to make sure there were no hidden cops behind bushes.

"I'll be fine," he gulped forcibly, "for now." I could hear his heavy, irregular respiration through the phone. I could taste the uninvited bitterness drying his mouth. I could smell the sweat beading on his skin. I could feel him closing his sapphire eyes briefly as he swallowed powerlessly into the receiver, "Where are you?"

"Evergreen Road," I mumbled determinedly, my squinted eyes set permanently to the asphalt ahead as I sprinted down the vacant boulevard. "A block or so away."

"Good," he replied, relieved. "I'm in your room now."

The boosting thought alone caused me to crash my shoe against the pedal and race down the empty avenue, pulling up to Preppy's mansion frenziedly in a record winning time. I didn't waste a moment, flinging off my seatbelt hurriedly and darting out of the car. I hastily jogged up the steps of the house and up into my beautiful bedroom, my jaw dropping absolutely ajar at the disconcerting sight of my lover, a blurry mix of bright red strewn with his clothes. He was reclining on a drenched towel in a wicker chair near my white desk, his garments looking as if they were a victim of Jack Pollock's artistic experiments. Malicious bruises of all brutal colors littered his velvety skin, gashes bladed cruelly among wicked scars. "Troy," I managed to squeak faintly at the disturbing, shocking scene. My heart jerked nauseatingly in pain. I was going to vomit again. I could feel Charity's exquisite pancakes mounting up in my throat.

"Gabi," he just barely audibly whispered. I barreled over to him instantly, strangling behind a pathetic sob and blinking back boiling tears as I crumpled hopelessly at his feet. His rigid hands hovered over to my head and wove gently through my dark curls, pressing my drained face to his muscular legs in an effort to console himself. His flesh was filthy with coppery red liquid, seeping through his mesh shorts and sticking to my skin, though I couldn't care any less about myself.

"Troy," I garbled exasperatedly against his strong legs. "Troy, you have to tell me what happened." He took my tiny hand and sheathed it securely in his larger one, his thumb rubbing over the top of my knuckles tenderly. "Your dad…your dad, what happened?" My vocal chords seem to have snapped in half, and I kept quiet as I waited for his answer. Troy tried to remain calm, his other hand stroking my midnight hair softly. The way he tried so hard to remain relaxed horrified me. He was acting like it was nothing, and _that_ action beside was not nothing. It was something that needed attention; something that needed fixing. I was going to be that person to help him. "Tell me. Summarize, at least. Please."

Troy sighed desolately, tangling his fingers in my brown tendrils expressionlessly once more. "My dad blew up. He hit me. He has a new girlfriend, who he met as prostitute and then who abandoned the job to live with him. I talked to her. She thought I was a screw-up. My dad came up to my room and bashed on me again for supposedly making a bad impression on Sage." I felt suffocated suddenly, like I was in outer space and I'd just taken off my helmet. I yanked away from his embrace abruptly, gaping for oxygen and needing the satisfaction that he was truly safe and healthy. I scurried to my bathroom, scampering back with a miniature trunk of first aid, a bucket of water, a few towels, and other miscellanies.

"Strip and lay down on the bed," I ordered quietly as I forested the bin gawkily for the currently desired supplies. Troy obeyed noiselessly, disposing his gory, tainted clothes in a sad-looking heap on my desk. He winced in pain as he carefully laid his blemished, tattered figure the length of the bed, staring up hollowly at the snow-colored ceiling as he waited for me to attend to him. Mutely, I advanced to his side, my eyes widening at the troubling prospect of his ripped, scarred body. I sucked in a shaky, unbalanced breath as I begun dabbing his open wounds with alcohol, my heart tearing itself to pieces when he flinched at the stinging contact.

"I'm sorry," he whispered lowly, out of the blue. His compelling sea eyes met mine, drawing out all the consciousness in my brain for just that brisk, wonderful instant. I proficiently wiped away the crimson fluid with a baby towel, rinsing the sticky blood from his skin.

"What for?" I soughed affectionately.

"For scaring you like this," he muttered regretfully, thwarted with himself. "I didn't mean to. I hate seeing you upset. It makes _me _upset. I was just scared that my dad would come after me. He was just so ashamed and angry; I didn't know what types of irrational things he would decide to do next. And even though he forbade me to see you, I just needed you, so badly and more than anything in the world. And so I ran. I ran here because I was counting on you. I believe in you, Gabriella." I felt my heart escalate in fluttering optimism at his inspiring words. My small hands trembled precariously as they floated up and down his chiseled chest, marked forever with depraved incisions. I could feel him quivering beneath my provoking touch, his tempting eyes flurrying momentarily as he permitted the distinctive sensations to brim through his body.

"It's okay," I forgave softly. "I'm just furious at your father for doing this to you." I sighed jadedly as my hands absentmindedly loomed up to his stiff neck, massaging the hard knots expertly. He shuddered instinctively, leaning in to my warm palms. He reached one hand up and slithered his thumb and index finger around my skinny wrist, closing his eyes in calm bliss. I wavered hazardously, gazing absorbedly into his infinite cobalt orbs, which seemed to jump out especially in the lavender-painted room with its unforgettable, passionate glow.

"I am too, but to be honest…" He paused attentively and then continued hesitantly. "I'm more angry about the fact that he has a slut for a girlfriend. That's about as low as you can go." He started to speak again before I even could. "And I know that I havehad sluts for girlfriends. But I was stupid, and I know that's wrong, and that was before I ever knew who you were. Gabriella, you make this females and relationships and love a whole other adventure. And my father…he can't see that. I had to tell him we were dating, or else I would've gotten into more trouble. So now…he prohibited that I see you, but I don't fucking care. I need to see you Gabriella. I live off of you. I don't care if my father is a lying hypocrite, or if my brother is always going to be the best, or if my mother dies of loneliness in California. You know why?"

"Me?" I guessed faintly, my voice feeling feathery and my general self feeling lightheaded.

"Yes," Troy whispered admiringly, staring eternally into my chocolate eyes and leaning in as if he could fall into their depths. "You make it all better. You make it seem like it's nothing. Like everything will be okay." His fond tone grew despondently grim. "Even though it wasn't, it isn't, and never will be."

"Yes it will," I croaked hopefully, doing my best to sound positive.

"I am old enough to know it never will." His nose twitched involuntarily and his azure eyes fluttered absentmindedly. "I am old enough not to buy bullshit." I was taken aback. My mouth dropped open slightly, and I averted my eyes to his chest instantaneously, my eyes lingering over his ripped skin. I didn't even have the heart to be harshly offended. "Sorry. I don't want to talk about it anymore," he swallowed feebly. "I can't talk about this anymore right now."

It was quiet. Silence chilled the air, and I kept my mouth firmly shut this time. I patched Troy up well within the hour, instructing him to stay in the house and not do any rigorous activities. Not like he would anyway, but just to make sure.

"Go get Eric, okay?" he whispered as I began to exit the rooms. "Make everything better. Doesn't have to be perfect; just better is good." He kissed my hand chastely and waved me goodbye. I sulked my way to the door, dragging my heavy feet behind me. My eyes felt like they would roll back in my skull any minute.

"_Wait_!" I hollered louder than I'd intended. I whipped around automatically. Troy's face read perplexity and astonishment. "What was the solution? The solution, you never told me it!"

"Later, okay? I promise," Troy nodded reassuringly, bidding me away to the door. "Just go find Eric. Come back here when you can, okay? And I'll explain everything to you." I nodded reluctantly, sighing tiredly as I trekked out the door and in my car.

I was too anxious. I wanted to know! I fucking needed to know at that second, or else my head was surely going to blow off. But I didn't have the time to think about Troy and I. Right now, it was all about Eric and patching up the problem. I was scared to lose our bond. Eric had helped me more than he'd known. He'd helped me fit in, and put the effort to make me feel more at ease in a foreign environment. He understood my family problems, and he respected my space and privacy. But mostly, he was a friend, and a good one at that. I would be burdened everlastingly if I didn't repair this now, and lose one of the most valuable friends I ever made.

* * *

The local bowling alley was a dark, shadowy sort of dwelling, though surprisingly, no variety of unpleasant. The misty, ambiguous atmosphere felt strangely thin but dense at the same time, and the polished, weathered floorboards squeaked in protest as Gabriella sauntered through entrance. Her deep, emblazoned eyes frantically skimmed the empty, eerie, and practically soundless site, searching for that familiar dark brown head and the warm, luminous turquoise orbs that followed. She sighed resignedly, gazing down the stretches of burnished though worn lanes before her, side by side and one directly after the other. She could just make out the failing lights in the back of the place, flickering a dim aquamarine and vibrant red. Her breath jammed in her throat as she steadily approached him, stationed in front of the final lane, staring blankly with dry eyes down the shiny path before him, reflecting his moping exterior in its clean wood.

"Eric," Gabriella managed to squeak out vaguely. Eric's head snapped up in the direction of hers, his dulled, green-blue eyes adjusting themselves to survey her tentative, petite form. She pulled her deer coat tighter around her in a sort of a lame effort to aid the rupture of the awkwardness hanging thickly in the air. Eric's fogged eyes finally locked with hers, and he released a captured sigh in a class of relief.

"I was wondering how long it would take you to find me here," Eric muttered distantly, blinking just once. His voice was gruff and low, dampened by his dismal behavior, which seemed so unusual and unlike him to clueless Gabriella.

"I just…" Gabriella began weakly, choking on her own slimy saliva. But suddenly, she seemed to gain some kind of defensive side. Her angelic face hardened as she spat, "I hope you're happy because Troy got beat up by his father." Gabriella's beautiful features were dark and stiff, her hands curled into angry fists. Eric took a hesitant step back at the sight of her irate face, flushed bright red. "I really, _really _do. Hope you are happy, I mean."

"I-I'm not," Eric stammered ineffectively in return, his eyes spinning as Gabriella suddenly seemed to leak of her furious steam. Her delicate face softened once again, her features twisting as she collapsed onto a bench helplessly. She unconstrained a haggard sigh, paying attention to her fingernails as so not to look at Eric's confused and disappointed face. "I'm sorry, alright?" Eric murmured as wiggled his fingers into the holes of one glistening neon-green bowling ball. "I didn't mean for that to happen. It was stupid, I know."

"But don't you know how ill-tempered Troy's father is? How angry he can get? How _out of control_? Fuck, you _do _know." Her voice quieted considerably as the realization catapulted itself at her. "Of course you know. Coach Bolton is…well, your _coach_." Blistering tears flooded her vision for the millionth time, but she refused for them to fall. She looked up from her intertwined fingers to meet Eric's absent gaze, and she could tell he was thinking intensely. "I don't know what you were thinking."

"Neither do I."

"Please. Don't tell anyone about Troy and I. We're—" She made an impulsive decision. "We're dating. He's my boyfriend. And you can't tell anyone—do you hear? You can't tell _anyone_. This is our little secret. I can trust you…right?"

Eric seemed significantly confused and apprehensive, but gave in. "Yes," he whispered crustily.

"Good then. This matter should be settled now."

Eric's face broke out into a jubilant grin. "Are you up for some games of bowling? You owe me."

Gabriella let a small smile charm her mouth as she stood and neared him. "Most definitely."


	15. Dinner Disaster

****

A/N: Alright, well tell me if this chapter seems to short! I was worrying that it was...just let me know. I apologize for infrequent updates, but it's really a jumble of reasons why. A) the family computer crashed B) I went on vacation. So yeah. I have my laptop back for the time being, meaning it may be taken away again, but either way, I added the part that was missing in the chapter before this. It's not much, but it felt crucial to me.

**Disclaimer: I do not own Disney or High School Musical or any of these characters except mine. **

* * *

The two teenagers talked about everything. They cleared everything up. Gabriella retold to Eric everything about Troy and their history; about their meeting, their dating, their falling in love, their separation, and their unexpected meeting at the wild house party two hours away. Eric was the only other person besides Troy whom she just felt so free and at ease when she spoke to him, probably because she knew his ears were always invitingly propped open and ready to listen. Eric just seemed to drink it in, politely; but it was more than that. Gabriella felt as if he genuinely wanted to know, not out of curiosity, but because he wanted to find a way to help her. And not just for her. She knew he was like this for everyone. She knew she could trust him. Gabriella continued on and confessed that they were in a bit of a rough patch, adding in that they were united in reason at the fact that they were going to try their hardest in making the relationship work well. They were going to muster up all the effort they had, and pummel it in to their relationship. Because it was worth it. Troy was worth it to her. Troy was worth anything.

By the time she got home, she immediately regretted having stayed with Eric to bowl. She knew that she had had to fill in the deep ditch created in between her and Eric, yet she couldn't help but feel her heart sink solemnly at the heartrending sight of her boyfriend, strewn across her lavender silk four poster on his stomach, his T-shirt carelessly ridden up to reveal his gashed, ointment-treated back. She guessed he'd put on his clothes again, which was a smart idea, just in case anyone walked in. But fortunately, that was unlikely as Gabriella almost had a whole wing of the mansion to herself. His sandy hair was mercilessly disheveled, his cyan eyes closed, and she cracked a sad smile when she heard a grumble of soft snores tumbling from his slightly parted mouth. She noiselessly approached his side, silently dragging up her desk chair to the edge of the bed and waiting there patiently as she admired him. There was just so much about him that she would never get tired of. Before she could stop herself, her thin fingers were threading themselves through his streaked hair, asking herself for the millionth time how she had gotten so lucky.

Why he had chosen her.

Why she had let him.

"Troy?" She just wanted to let him know she was home. He didn't stir. She sighed dryly, and pressed a chaste kiss to his humid, flushed cheek, tiptoeing out of the room cautiously and slipping into the majestic kitchen for a little naughty nighttime snacking. She wasn't surprised to see Eric standing by the marble counter, monstrously cramming handfuls of salt-dusted potato chips into his greedy mouth. But Gabriella was taken aback to see her traitor mother there, not unpredictably equipped with her current accessory. Preppy, of course. They were squished together at a far gray counter; so suffocatingly close, it seemed to Gabriella like an illusion, as if they were sharing one stool instead of supposedly two. The teenager managed to contain her overwhelming gag of repugnance. She silently gravitated over to the wooden cabinets, snatching at the first bags of food her spinning brown orbs landed on. Munching hard on her brittle pretzels, Gabriella tried hard to drown out the vomit-worthy sounds of her mother's whispers and giggles, blended in with her lover's, but found it near impossible. After a while, when she just couldn't take anymore, she secured away the twisted pretzels and began dragging her feet up the steps. But in her mind, the stairway seemed more of a life-salvaging escape route.

"Hey!" It was Preppy's recognizable voice: plain and low and yet grumbling, like a train in a hurry, zooming down the tracks and causing a racket. Gabriella stopped just for a moment, but didn't whirl around. They would have to talk to her back, for all she cared. She snarled nastily for her own satisfaction, because she knew they couldn't see. It made her feel good, oddly. To rebel. To revolt. To riot. To take a stand. To fight back. She relished the delightful hum of those words. "We're just gonna have dinner," Phillip rumbled in his gruff, transparent tone. He gave a minute pause. "Stay Gabriella. Please. Your mother and I haven't seen you in a while." _Well, it's not like you want to_, Gabriella found herself murmuring defensively in her head, but kept her mouth clamped tightly shut. She grinded her teeth together as she did her best not to stomp down the stairs. It wasn't all that bad though, because they forced Eric to stay too.

Dinner was indisputably awkward.

The only words Gabriella dared to utter were "there's barely any ketchup left," or "this spinach tastes weird." She didn't care much for behaving polite or maintaining her manners at the moment. It was repulsive enough that Preppy and her immature mother were flirting inadvertently, naively, unconsciously before her very eyes; both so-called responsibles hopelessly possessed and locked away in their own little blithe fantasy world. She didn't want to have to stress over how bone-straight her posture was right then. She couldn't. She didn't want to worry over if she were using the right designated fork for her limp spinach salad, which was atrocious, by the way. She hated the cook for using a day off. She didn't want to care about chewing with her mouth closed, and although that was second nature to the frustrated girl, she twanged with heated rebellion and assured Maria she could take a fine view of the potatoes mashed in her mouth if she glanced her way. Besides, her mother wasn't even looking, and if she did, she didn't notice.

But what Gabriella really yearned for was to dart back up to her room and be with Troy. She was so fidgety, her knobby knees jerking and overly anxious to race from the room. Her heart's desire was incredibly strong and almost overpowering her sanity. She couldn't bear to think of him alone up there, even if he was deep in sleep. She just wanted to gaze at him, dreamily drink him all in. She hadn't seen him in months, and there was definitely loving she needed to catch up on. Just thinking about him sent butterflies frenzying in her stomach. She bit back a grin from thoughts of the night before, knowing her achy body this morning was definitely worth the pleasure shared between them. She knew she would never grow tired of that free feeling. She just wanted to experience it again and again, over and over, never stopping. And it wasn't hard to see that Troy felt the same way. There was no doubt in her mind that he was worth it. He was worth every effort of hers. She would make this work. They would. She was completely determined. Nothing could stop her. Even the thwarting actions of her mother.

Eric was also definitely disturbed by the behavior of the two supposed adults at the table. His flushed pink cheeks portrayed that he was embarrassed. And who wouldn't be? They were playing footsie under the table. Footsie. How suddenly had the ordinary Phillip been swept away and replaced with a mushy lovesick teenager, soggy and absorbent like a sponge, soaking in anything that protruded from his beloved fiancée's mouth. It was undoubtedly sickening.

Victoria was glaring down at her plate fixedly, courteously masticating on her cow meat at a snail's pace, her enormous enchanting eyes dilated and squinty. Her striking face was pale and drained, and she seemed more embarrassed than her older brother, and unquestionably more desperate to veil it. Her spidery white fingers tentatively sealed around her chilled glass of water, the transparent glass frothy from the ice cubes floating inside. She buried her nose in her cup as if to obscure herself from the nauseating scene, fuzzying any chance of seeing her father and that Maria woman. Maybe it wasn't such a wonderful idea to have her father remarry if he was going to act like this from then on. She anxiously wondered what her life was going to appear like after the two lovebirds wed.

James straightforwardly sensed the discomfort at the ostentatious table in that spacious dining room of theirs, the other three minors frighteningly immobile in their seats. He hopelessly tried to bungee off a flowing conversation, yet none of the high schoolers appeared to have any interest or energy in speaking, let alone sitting there. He noticed how Gabriella was jumpy, ready to rocket on out of there. Eric simply wanted to vanish for the time being, his face as crimson as a beet. Victoria looked as if this were on purpose, a cruel way to torture her, bleeding slowly to death. James tried to catch the attention of his father, but he barely said more than a word to him. It was hopeless, and as a result, James was caught in a mixture of quite shame and embarrassment. He silently decided that it was better when Phillip and Maria were not home, organizing the wedding and whatnot.

Elizabeth was unsurprisingly absent. Her selected chair sulked lonely in the bare middle of the table, a place having been set for her, like usual, but not having been laid a finger on. Elizabeth was notorious for not attending dinners, or ever being present at home at all. It was as if she were too busy, Victoria noted as she frowned, and she were too good for her family. It was as if her hectic, eventful schedule were far much more important than her blood relations; her drunk friends and drunk parties and drunk fucks taking superior position at the top of her full list. Victoria once idolized her older sister, but no longer. That was long ago, as did it seem so. Victoria mutely vowed to herself that she would never become the fiend her sister had morphed into, so rapidly it was blinding and surreal. The brunette secretly missed the former Elizabeth, a Xerox of her mother, always cheery and elated to be in the company of her family. But now, it seemed like a joke that the two had once been the same person.

The still atmosphere at the table had passed embarrassing eons back. If the children's ongoing silence was not enough, the adults' unawareness of it definitely overthrew all. Gabriella coughed intentionally loud as she stood from her wooden chair, bringing her laden dish up with her, which was mounded with untouched food and pinched tightly in her small hands. "I'm going upstairs," she announced defiantly, her tone bold, decided, and unmoving. Her mystifying brown eyes seemed set and firm as they burned holes through her mother's head. "I have heaps of homework waiting for me, waiting to be done." She supplemented briskly for an extra push, "It's urgent." Her feet seemed plastered to the floorboards, her bones stiff and afraid to budge. Her tongue felt dry from the intolerable thickness wafting in the air, but what else was she to do? There were no more choices. She was done sitting at that table, watching Preppy feed her mother. What were they, five? One more second there, and she was sure she would stab herself until she perished.

Phillip looked uneasy at this. "Alright then, Gabriella, if you really need to…"

"_Thank_ you," Gabriella declared in her controlling voice, swiftly exiting the kitchen and bounding up the stairs with the plate of food still clenched securely in her hands. She halted suddenly by the snow-white door of her bedroom, noiselessly coaxing the entrance open without a single squeak and lowering the platter on her nightstand next to her bed. She couldn't help but smile again at the sight of her lover in the darkness. She could only just outline his body shape on the bed in the blackness, but that was sufficient to make her mocha eyes glisten and gleam with glee. A faint, white beam of light made the room glow with hope, overturning the black into a solemn gray.

Gabriella swallowed a weary sigh as she knew she was better off leaving him to sleep, knowing it was best for him and for her. She needed her rest too. Besides, school was tomorrow. She groaned at the sheer thought. Dreaded school. As much as she loved it sometimes, she hated it too, just the same as everyone else. She snatched her book bag from a dim corner as she remembered the books wallowing inside it, forgotten, also thankfully recalling to grab her pajamas in the process. With one last sweep of her hungry eyes on the gorgeous slumbering figure, she reluctantly advanced to the door, dragging her whining feet along with her, her heart screaming at her brain to sprint back to Troy. But she didn't. She couldn't.

"Gabriella?"

Her unrelenting heart overeagerly hurdled over a beat and skipping merrily, la-dee-dahed fifteen million miles closer to pure happiness. His voice was buried under hours of sleep, muffled and husky, so ridiculously sexy to her. The attractiveness of his tone just seemed to wrench her in, like a magnet. She instinctively took a step forward towards him, her glossy eyes creasing as they settled on the drowsy boy, his coffee hair ruffled adorably. How could she say no? Her sensitive spirit seemed to speak inside of her, the contrary of what her mouth was stating at the same time, "No, Troy. Get some sleep." She paused before adding, "You look like you really need it."

"I need you."

Gabriella's empathetic soul surged at his words, but she somehow managed not to cave in. "I need you too, baby, but I'm sorry, Troy. I've seriously got homework that needs finishing. I'll see you in the morning. I promise."

"Please?"

It felt so good to Gabriella to hear his voice. And it hadn't even been that long. He was like a drug, and she only wanted more. There was never enough of him for her. And she estimated there never would be. But there had to be some limits when and where there needed to be. Of course she knew that, deep down. And when was she going to dig those ditches, and organize them into boundaries? She was not creating another mess. She was starting now with those borders. "I'm sorry, Troy. Goodnight."

Troy pouted as closed his sleepy eyes. "Fine. Goodnight, Gabs. I love you." He swiveled over onto his stomach once more and delved his face into the silk pillow, deeply inhaling his girlfriend's invigorating scent, which drove his wild senses overboard. He wanted her. He just couldn't seem to control himself anymore, especially with the intoxicating Gabriella around. Because that's what she was to Troy. Completely intoxicating. _Like a drug_, he thought attentively. Troy could feel Gabriella's hard eyes spiraling down on him, and he loved every second of it. Being around Gabriella was like being around a goddess. He just couldn't seem to get enough of her, no matter what. He wanted to be the best for Gabriella, and show her the best he could be. He was not planning to fail at that quest, either.

He heard Gabriella suck in an anxious lungful of oxygen, her breathing haggard and shaky as her captivated eyes didn't dare stray from his motionless form. Knowing her, Troy knew she was thinking deeply. And he would let her. He furtively peeked open one eye at her, ingesting her flawless, curvaceous body and knowing it was as close to perfection as God. He knew she was exhausted, not even needing to spot the proof of violet bags under her dulled eyes, and automatically felt guilty for begging her to stay with him. He saw Gabriella give a tiny, insecure smile at him from the crook of her mouth, her shadowed eyes twinkling in that enchanting way of hers before she spoke, her velvety voice exhilarating for Troy to hear.

"I love you, too, Troy," Gabriella finally replied tenderly, feeling very warm inside indeed as she let her orbs linger on the boy for just one moment, carefully closing the door and creeping into the guest room. She was immersed in affectionate thoughts about Troy as she peeled off her clothes and threw on her pajamas, snuggling under the cozy covers with her history homework and hopelessly trying to concentrate. Her mind kept flying off to the blue-eyed boy snoozing in her bedroom. Why was it so hard not to think about him? She knew the answer effortlessly. She was so madly in love with him.

* * *

_"We're getting a divorce," her mother choked as if a snake were strangling her, forcing the poisoned words out of her mouth. She just chucked them out there, into the wide-open space and sky, Gabriella feeling her oxygen capacity diminish immediately._

_"Di…" Gabriella could barely bring herself to repeat the word. "Divor-rce?"_

_"Now, why should it be so hard, Ella? He's been gone for a couple of months now," Maria continued nervously, her ineloquent speaking manner unsteady and overflowing with uneasy apprehension. Each challenging syllable out her mouth was its own perilous obstacle. "It's just a finalization."_

_"F-Finaliz-zation?" Gabriella croaked hoarsely. Her eyes felt uncomfortably dry. She blinked rapidly a few times. Maybe she needed to clean her ears more often._

_"Yes…dear," Mrs. Montez nodded awkwardly, not sure how to call her daughter. It was always like that now. Ever since Mr. Montez left them, it was like Maria didn't even know how to behave around her own daughter anymore. How to address her, how to converse with her, and on and on. Gabriella felt like her troubled mother avoided her, neglecting her and almost forcing her to live on her own. Gabriella got the feeling as if she were grieving solely, mourning without someone who could equally share her feelings. Maria was never home anymore, and Gabriella didn't even want to know what she was doing. Secretly, Gabriella had a theory that she would be searching for Jose. But that was only, after all, a mere theory. Otherwise, Maria filled her time with God knows what. She was barely doing her job anymore. Gabriella had no idea how they still had money. She felt like her mother was giving up. It worried her to no end._

_Gabriella remained speechless as her mother's words mulled over in her strained brain. They were taking an awful long while to settle in, even partially. They still seemed to float high above her, and she was only trying to grasp the concept, bouncing up and trying to catch them in the air. Or maybe, like most everything else that had recently occurred with her, it would never fully register in her brain. She was sort of hoping that was what was going to happen. And it didn't matter how hard she tried; she knew she wouldn't be able to mumble even one pathetic little word. The only noise she predicted she could compose was a guttural groan of agony. She was in pain. It seemed as if her mother was finally accepting the fact that her father was out of the family for good. Gabriella always knew, deep inside her, but it speared her to know that it was really happening. The last few months had been surreal. She was in a nightmare, and she was just waiting for someone to wake her up. But now, with this whole divorce her mother wanted to pull off, it seemed so…final. As if it all really had happened. As if her father really had packed his bags one night, calling a cab in the wee hours of the morning and escaping with nothing more than a vague note._

_That was all she got._

_That was what she got for being the best daughter she could be._

_For trying the hardest she would ever._

_For being herself._


	16. The Reason Why

****

A/N: Okay, so I apologize for lateness. I've been crazily busy recently, but I just had to get this out to you. This story has been slow in the past few chapters, so I'm sorry, but this story is definitely going to pick up again soon. Hopefully next chapter. ;) I have it all planned out now. :D

**Disclaimer: I do not own Disney or High School Musical or any of these characters except mine. **

* * *

Gabriella awoke to fingers threading through her tangled hair, so gingerly, that she was sure she was going to purely melt on the silk bed sheets. The warm feeling blazing inside her last night had been well-kindled through the hours she'd slept, and she instantly felt the heat inside her soar in temperature when she realized it was Troy who was calmly stroking her hair. Her eyes delicately fluttered open, revealing the rich vivid chocolate she knew her boyfriend perished for, glancing up at him with a pleasant smile fixed to her features. He seemed to be humming with happiness as he gazed absorbedly down at her, a dreamy haze cast over his rigid figure and a peculiar atmosphere of peace wafting about him. Gabriella was awfully curious at this unexpected behavior.

"What?" she questioned bluntly, Troy grinning even wider at the sight of her still encased in the state of sleepiness.

"Nothing," he whispered faintly as he continued to run his fingers through her midnight hair, the soft strands brushing against his coarse skin.

"C'mon, I know you," Gabriella muttered in defense as she discovered a comfortable position on her side. She shifted around slightly before preceding bitterly, "You can't just…_not _tell me. I thought we were working towards the light. Right?" She glanced up into his spiraling sapphire eyes darkly, her glorious lips thin and her white cheeks suddenly sullenly sharp in comparison to the softness they had held the day before. Troy stared down at his love with passionately spinning orbs, the radiance in them glimmering especially as the corners of his mouth curved into an unsure smile.

"I just can't wait to show the whole world my beautiful," he kissed her on the nose chastely, "girlfriend."

Gabriella's face reflexively flushed crimson. She giggled and retorted jokingly, "What are you waiting for Bolton? Want me too swoon hopelessly and make love to you right now and here?"

"That would be nice."

Gabriella lightly smacked his face with her pillow, more of her delicate childish laughter echoing throughout the room. She sat up on her haunches and grinned up at him knowingly. "So we're going to brave it? Just go in and hold hands and kiss and see what people think about it? And if they don't, we kick their asses?"

"Pretty much," Troy mumbled against her mouth, pecking a kiss to her saintly lips, relishing their silkiness and savoring her sweet taste. "I wouldn't be able to stand going a whole day and not kissing you…"

Trickles of giggles slipped from her mouth again, and she threaded her thin fingers through his sandy hair, combing it away from his enchanting eyes so she could stare into them. She practically fell into them. The atmosphere of the room suddenly softened and grew abruptly more serious. Gabriella's eyes blunted at the edges, her sugary voice gentle and tender as she asked placidly, "So what was that solution you were going to tell me?"

Troy sighed and answered truthfully. "I don't think we need it right now. I want it to be a last resort. Let's just try what we're doing now first, okay?" His large hand cupped her flawlessly unblemished cheek, his thumb affectionately rubbing over her velvety flesh. "Now get dressed, baby," he whispered warmly, his spiraling eyes boring hard into hers. He pressed a last loving kiss to her forehead and exited the room with a wink that made Gabriella laugh out loud.

* * *

Everyone had stared at them as they held hands in the hallways. As they spoke lovingly to one another. As he peppered caring kisses on her angelic face.

They could feel the perplexed, curious eyes, rudely wide as they glared at the two shrinking forms. Well, hers anyway. Troy was bolder in any situation than Gabriella would ever be. It was as if he made up for her lack of bravery. The zombie-like stares made Gabriella feel extremely awkward, being under inspection at all times. She did not like the intrusion of privacy. At all. Why the fuck were these people staring at her? What had she done? The questions bothered her to no end, and she had been irked enough. Gabriella was determined to finally get down to the reason.

Gabriella was unusually quiet as she mutely slid into her seat that first class, her dulled eyes downcast to the tortured wood of her desk. She usually loved her biology class, because it was interesting and Mr. Bight was engaging. But now, she just wanted to get out. People were still gazing at her, uncomprehendingly, their heads cocked to one side as they analyzed her.

Was it because she was dating Troy Bolton, East High's golden boy?

Damn, had they made a wrong move. But that still didn't give her a confirmed answer, and also why she'd received those unnerving stares earlier.

Confident, Alexa Daney plopped down nonchalantly in her seat, crossing her sticklike legs in what was supposed to be a sexy manner. The typical sly smirk tacked to her scrawny face was as sly as ever, whipping her long yellow hair over her shoulder casually. The dark-washed material of her jean miniskirt was hitched up as high as possible without revealing her panties, knowingly teasing the hormonal guys in the room. Gabriella never understood what guys found so attractive about the anorexic-looking Alexa, but nevertheless, they were constantly drooling over her. She was wearing a sky-colored halter, a shade that reminded Gabriella of her boyfriend's mystifying eyes, the hue of blue somehow exaggerating Alexa's perkiness even more. Her black, oversized heels dangled off of her bony feet as she tapped them, over and over as she waited for the class to begin.

It was unfortunate to Gabriella that Alexa was in her class. Even more so that she sat next to her.

Alexa talked a lot. Emphasis on the _a lot. _God forbid Alexa didn't talk. She was constantly yapping on to Gabriella, endlessly, not really caring if Gabriella was listening or responding or not. Gabriella normally tried to ignore Alexa's annoying chirps as much as possible, but now she was thirsty for a valuable answer and was willing to hear that high, tweeting voice to get it.

"Ew, God, John Flaherty keeps staring at me…It would be fucking _disgusting _if he liked me…I mean, doesn't he know I don't _go _for his type?" Her scheming smile grew even more furtive as she glanced sideways to Gabriella. "I saw you and Bolton the Basketball Boy roaming the halls looking mighty cozy."

"Yeah…" Gabriella managed to squeak nervously. Where was this headed?

"Do you like him?"

"He's my boyfriend," Gabriella answered, mustering some defiance in her voice. "I'm pretty sure I like him."

"So it's _true_!" Alexa nearly shouted out, her shrill tone exuberant. Alexa had a filthy look of triumph written on her face, her transparent eyes radiant with conquest. "What Sharpay said was actually _true_!" She leaned back in her chair as Gabriella leaned forward in the aisle, Alexa's skeletal face glittering in some sort of victory.

"Wh-What?" Gabriella stammered hoarsely, hard for her to hear. "Did I…hear it right? What do you m-mean?"

"Sharpay Evans had _said _you'd dated Troy Bolton! There were rumors flying around like crazy last week but I didn't think they were _true_. The whole school knew that you had dated Troy Bolton. Some thought it was likely, some thought it was a lie. But wow, Sharpay was actually _right_ for once!"

Gabriella felt her throat go dry, tears welling up in her eyes. "That's why people were staring at me?" she inquired miserably, sounding lonesome. "Because they knew I had dated Troy Bolton?"

"Yep," Alexa nodded as if it were no big deal. "Sharpay said you two had known each other because you'd went to the same school in San Diego. That's where you moved from right?"

How the fuck could Sharpay do this to her? Spread _rumors _about her and Troy? It didn't matter if they were true or not. She still had no right to give details that were her privacy. Sharpay had lied to her. She had said she didn't know. What was Gabriella going to do now? She didn't want to brew more trouble. She just needed Sharpay to understand her mistake and apologize, as pathetic as it sounded. Rebellion would do no good, and Gabriella simply needed this dilemma to vanish as soon as possible. It was only something standing her way of achieving ultimate happiness.

* * *

"Why? _Why_ in the world did you do it Sharpay?" Gabriella fumed wrathfully the second Sharpay sat down in the next class. Sharpay looked like a deer caught in headlights, her brown eyes engorging in horror, the words like daggers into her chest.

"Do what?" she questioned innocently, trying to keep her cover, her face suddenly going pale because she knew what Gabriella was referring to.

"Tell everyone about me and Troy," Gabriella choked furiously, barely capable of suppressing her erupting anger. Her hands curled into tight fists under her desk. Gabriella's clouded eyes spun on the petite figure across from her, so falsely blameless it made her gag.

"Oh," Sharpay whispered faintly, her regularly bright features instantly falling the way Gabriella had expected. "I knew that would come around…"

"Then why did you do it?" Gabriella blurted heatedly, her mouth tasting repulsively vile. "Why did you lie to me? Why did you tell everyone in the first place?"

"I had the information," Sharpay whispered hurtfully, her shoulders dipping low and her spirits sinking. She stared down guiltily at her lap, her forlorn eyes not daring to budge. "I had the juicy gossip a-and—and I was bribed, okay?" She began to ramble, vociferously. "Mike Sanyor caught me after gym class and told me he wanted you and he wanted to know if you were single and I said I wasn't sure because I knew there had been something going on with you and Troy and he kind of caught on that I knew something and so then he just forced it out of me with money—you _know _that that's my weak spot—and then before I knew it the whole school knew that you and Troy had something going on…"

"_What_?!" Gabriella croaked in utter astonishment. "Wait, how did you know about me and Troy?"

It was like the world was spinning on its axis.

"Chad," Sharpay muttered uncomfortably in a small voice. "Chad told me."

Gabriella's face softened tremendously, like butter. She suddenly knew the rest, but asked anyway. "And who told Chad?" she whispered quietly, blazing tears swarming in her eyes again.

"Troy."

"Troy," Gabriella repeated vacantly, waiting for the name to register in her head.

"Yeah, Troy."

"Wh-Why?" She already knew the answer, but wanted to make sure of it.

"They're best friends. That's what they do. They tell each other everything."

"Who else did Chad tell?"

"Taylor, but that's it."

"I-I—" Gabriella swallowed forcibly. She sunk down in her seat. "I don't know what to think right now."

Sharpay was surprisingly sincere. Her eyes morphed into warm and sympathetic ones, but in a genuine way that didn't vex Gabriella. "I know. It was wrong of me. I understand if you're mad at me, and will be for a while. I feel so guilty, Gabriella, and I'm so sorry. I just want you to know that I didn't mean it and I didn't think about it—and I…I still want to be your friend. I want to fix this."

Gabriella felt somewhat numb. Her voice was grave and feeble. "But the people…they were all staring…how can you fix that Sharpay? How can you stop that?" There were tears in her voice too.

Sharpay tried sounding hopeful. "I can create something that's more intriguing, okay? As a sort of diversion. I will, I promise. I owe that much to you. I will bring something completely and horrifyingly embarrassing upon myself to take away all the attention from you and Troy. I will make it up to you."

Gabriella sighed. "Deal." She paused and added shakily, "Does Mike Sanyor really want me?"

Mike Sanyor was a bulky, muscular jock who scared the shit out of everyone. He had jet-black hair that was usually caked with gel, and mischievous matching black eyes were so frightening and spooky that they appeared in her nightmares. They were so beady and hard, so unlike Troy's, enough to creep out the most fearless.

Sharpay took her turn to sigh. "He does." She was not going to add how abnormally obsessed Mike was with her. Gabriella seemed to have enough on her plate. "Beware, okay? I'm sure Troy will protect you, right?" She winked playfully.

"Yeah," Gabriella murmured resignedly.

Did Mike really like her? She thought back to how in gym class she had caught him gazing fixedly at her, but that had only been once. But still. Gabriella vowed to pay more attention next time.

* * *

It was really started to freak her out.

The way Mike stared at her.

She really noticed it now.

His stare was wildly unsettling and intimidating, his solid dark eyes glued to her form. Even from across the room, he stared at her.

Gabriella cursed the fact that Troy wasn't in her gym class to protect her, because that was what she really wanted that moment.

She bit down on her tongue when he purposefully brushed past her, his defined hip connecting with hers for a mere second as he made his way to the water fountain. He looked over his shoulder before leaning down to take a drink, his evil snicker making her queasy, her stomach dropping at the sickening look.

Mike had a terrible, ripped reputation. He fooled around with girls, forcing them to cooperate. He beat them. He raped them. He was always in control and strived to keep it that way. Most girls steered their paths away from him, like Gabriella had so desperately tried to do, but sometimes, it was just no use. Mike would take their lives into his hands and let them destroy themselves, just by raping the girl once. Just one time was enough to cause the wretched girl to drown in depression. He treasured the way the way they all screamed for help, loved the way they cried so pitifully as he abused them. He loved all of it. He loved to see beautiful girls in pain.

And here comes this new girl. This new, naïve girl, so exotic and gorgeous that he knew he wanted her the moment he laid his stiff eyes on her. He wanted to be inside her, and would do anything to have his wish granted. His thoughts seemed to only revolve around her now. The way she moved. The way she talked. The way she was quiet when she thought. She had a boyfriend, but that didn't matter.

He would get her.

Maybe not now, maybe not soon.

But in time, slowly but surely, he would have her.


	17. Sudden Change

****

A/N: I'm trying to get back into the groove of things updating-wise. I feel guilty that I haven't been cranking these out as quickly as I used to, but school and such is just chaos and I've been trying to balance it all.

So like I said, I hope this chapter picks up on action again. I know this story has been having lots of filler chapters for the past few chapters, and I apologize, but there were issues I needed to cover before moving on. But now I can move on. :D So we will be having a lot more fun now.

**Disclaimer: I do not own Disney or High School Musical or any of these characters except mine. **

* * *

Gabriella knew it was bad the second she was ushered into the living room that Tuesday night; so graciously and so innocently that it made her throat feel sore. The forged expression pasted to her mother's face was disgustingly syrupy, her face seeming to be temporarily paralyzed, her nearly black eyes dreadfully nervous as they stared straight ahead. Preppy stood somewhat stiffly at her side, his lofty back rigid. Eric, Victoria, and James were all obediently seated on the plush sofas of the room, looking uneasy and anxious. Gabriella was remotely surprised to see Elizabeth present, looking tremendously bored and restless indeed, slouching jadedly in a vomit-yellow armchair in one corner. Gabriella timidly occupied a silk, spongy sofa, tautly firm and refusing to allow her mind to venture through the possibilities of why the meeting had been called. Victoria had filled the space to Gabriella's side, fearfully shrunk back against the expensive exterior of the couch, as if trying to become one with it and simply evaporate.

"Well…" Maria chimed merrily from nowhere, her aging face looking painfully plastic as she spoke so awkwardly. She strained herself to keep a secure grip of her false mask. "We wanted to gather you all here today to inform you—or announce to you that…about…how we're—"

"—Just spit it out already," Elizabeth interrupted insolently in her droning, uninterested voice, her clawing green eyes squeezing threateningly at the fidgeting speaker. The mother ignored Elizabeth's brusque tone, pausing dramatically before proceeding with the principal publication.

Maria gently placed her hand on her abdomen. "Well…we're pregnant."

All four minors merely sat there, expressionless and feeling wildly surreal. They sat in uncomfortable silence for what Gabriella logically guessed to be a minute or so, blank and unsure of what to think. The two wordless parents were still at their unmoving perch, baffled; worrying and wondering what they had done wrong and how they had received such a different reply from what they'd expected.

James boldly reacted first, shrugging his shoulders, shooting up to a standing position, courteously congratulating them, politely shaking the couple's hands, and then finally resorting to his room. Eric took his brother's intrepid example into account, and repeated the boy's procedure. Victoria then stood, apprehensively sucking in a deep breath before mutely acknowledging the couple.

Gabriella pessimistically glanced over at her mother and Phillip, and then back at Elizabeth, whom was staring off aimlessly into space with a ghostly vacant expression, her peculiar emerald eyes empty but her mind evidently not, thoughts cluttered and mystified and trampling through her head a mile a minute. Gabriella's bottom lip quivered perilously. She felt stuck. She had no idea how she had been able to endure the last few minutes without breaking down, for she knew the moment she was alone she would. She didn't want to congratulate the two traitors, but of course she had to. Gabriella knew Elizabeth was not going to take the chance, and so the senior hesitantly stood, copied James's and Eric's model the best she could without completely cracking, and then scurried up to her room. Immediately, she collapsed onto the floor and dissolved into acidic tears.

She had known this would happen.

In the pit of her aching stomach, she seemed to have always known it would. From the day her mother had revealed their hurried engagement, she knew that in conclusion, the story would finish with a baby. Of course. She was getting replaced. Now her mother could finally have the ideal child she had always dreamed for. And now it was permanent. Maria and Phillip were probably going to sacrifice everything they had for their stupid child and they would make sure that there marriage was everlasting. It sickened Gabriella, for she knew now that there was no way out and everything was horrifically final. Her mother's pregnancy seemed to make everything real; everything official. Her father really _had _left her mother. Her parents really _had _divorced. Her mother really _was _getting remarried. And she really was fucked up.

She heard the front door violently slam, and it was no mystery to who it had been. Somehow, this made her feel more alone.

"Troy?" she bawled deliriouslyinto the mouthpiece of her phone, salty tears streaming down her reddened face in jagged rivers and pooling in her mouth. Gobs of mucus oozed slowly out of her nose and saliva trickled down her chin, dripping onto her clothes and seeping into the material as she savagely wept. "Tr-Troy? I r-really need y-you right-t now…please—please call m-me back…as s-soon-n as you can-n…"

Earth-shattering sobs echoed through the room, erupting uncontrollably from the depths of her throat like vile vomit, her body out of her management. Her white hands shaking dangerously, she switched off her cell phone, tossing it onto her desk as carelessly as if it were a dirty sock. Her chin trembled as oxygen was vacuumed from her, her chest expanding before bursting with more self-pitying cries. She stayed in an unyielding, balled position, hugging her knees to her chest as if they were her shield, motionless and exhausted as she continued to cry hysterically. She thanked God that it was not very long until Troy aggressively thrust open the door, his gorgeous face drenched in utter horror at the wrecked state of his girlfriend.

"Come here, baby," he had coaxed her soothingly, carefully gathering her limp limbs in his sturdy arms and letting her lose it completely. He felt much more than sympathetic towards her devastation; he experienced every fierce ripple of emotion, every brutal wave of outbreak. His heart cracked and buried itself under her sadness. He felt like he was in her place at that moment. More than willingly, he had held her and rubbed her back and brought her tissues. He was her support. They had lain down on her bed together, despondently glum and silent, Troy comforting her until she drifted off to a considerately calm slumber. She awoke to a start some short time later to find him absent, and then began to sob maniacally again in the dark, hollow loneliness of her room. Even though she knew he had escaped because he would most likely get in trouble with his father for not being home, it didn't halt her from crying or feeling terribly miserable.

Besides the dim moon, there was no real illumination pouring through the windows, which had been wrenched open some time earlier. The bitter wind whirled and howled, teetering on her windowsill and tugging on her lavender window curtains as it did so. She felt so alone. She felt like she was drowning in a sea of her loneliness, engulfing her so overwhelmingly that she couldn't breathe. She felt choked, hopeless, forgotten. Her irregular breathing fell short and raspy, her skin texture feeling as dry and rough as sandpaper. She was soaked with trouble, absorbing problems like a sponge, sitting on top of them because she just didn't want them to be true, no matter how much she knew they were. Courtesy of the faraway moon, there were taunting shadows of her lifeless self looming on her walls, perturbing her even more. She couldn't recognize herself, and eternally petrified was undoubtedly an understatement. When would this torment end?

"I can't even believe it," an arrogant, domineering voice suddenly sneered callously at the door. "I can't believe you're _crying_. Over a fucking _baby_."

Gabriella tentatively blinked up to see the small, sinister sophomore, her trademark eyes staggeringly dark. The emotionless menace thrashing inside her seemed to be especially thriving at that particular moment, the corners of her pink mouth murdering themselves not to turn up in a mocking smirk.

"Excuse me—" Gabriella stammered defenselessly, any existing confidence remaining in her face crashing down like an avalanche.

"—You always escape to Troy because you can't deal with yourself. Because you're so unstable and weak, and because you can't stand up for yourself. You believe you need help, even for things you can do yourself, because you're insecure. Well _learn. _Learn to protect yourself. Learn to live on your own. Because that's how it is in real life, and you're only being deceived, misdirected, confused this way. Because one day you will wake up and little Troysie will be gone, and you'll be completely lost. And you'll wish you had listened to me," she snarled coldly, her voice insistently harsh and vicious. Her pale red-tinged blonde hair glimmered from the light in the hallway behind her, her freckle-speckled face grimly shadowed in the murkiness of the evening.

Gabriella's innocent features softened helplessly as she seemed to melt of muscle in Elizabeth's unarming presence. "I don't always run to him," Gabriella blubbered feebly, although she guiltily knew that it was very well true. Elizabeth allowed herself to snigger, ruthlessly cruel.

"You have to be your own person, Gabriella. You have to experiment, understand what you are and what you are not capable of. You need to test your limits, know yourself inside and out. And when you do, that's when things become easier," Elizabeth informed firmly, control spinning in the palms of her hands.

"Do you know yourself that way?" Gabriella rebutted with a faint hint of renewed strength.

"Listen," Elizabeth stated forcefully, taking a defiant step forward. She tactically angled her face down to Gabriella's, who was still crumpled pathetically on the floor, making Gabriella feel smaller and more powerless than ever. Elizabeth's infamous gem-colored eyes hardened with unshakable ferocity as she spoke. "Take it from me. I might be a sophomore, but I know things. Like how Victoria is failing nearly every single one of her classes and how she's probably going to be living at summer school until college, if she even gets into one. Like how James will most likely be a successful, pioneering scientist. Like how Eric and none of the boys on the varsity basketball team are going to play basketball professionally. Like how I know my dad and your mom are not going to end up well and how that baby is going to be fucked up. Like how I know you and Troy are going to break up soon enough."

Gabriella gasped in a mixture of shock and horror at the last sentence, just like Elizabeth had expected she would.

"You don't really know that—"

"Some things—as you will learn, or possibly not—are easy to predict. Once you know them, you take that knowledge and use it," Elizabeth declared decisively, her tone solid.

Gabriella was wholly speechless. She just sat there, bemusedly gazing up at Elizabeth with a stupid, dumbfound look slapped to her naïve self. She looked like someone had just kicked her in the stomach, astonished at Elizabeth's piercing words.

"You can't tell me that," Gabriella croaked finally, her words dry and monotonous. Her eyes seemed to search for a worthy answer, spelling out to Elizabeth everything her enemy needed to know.

"Why not?" Elizabeth shot back deviously, snickering once more. Gabriella opened her mouth to say something, but no sound came out. "Just stand up, bitch," Elizabeth "Just get up and get away."

And with those final suggestive words, Elizabeth promptly sauntered from the room.

Gabriella merely sat. And thought. Then kept on sitting. And thought some more. Until those thoughts settled in her mind like feathers floating to the ground, sinking into her brain; she made an unbending decision.

She was going to change.

She wasn't sure how—those were still untied ends needing to be tended to. But she knew she was going to turn her life around. She needed to.

* * *

Sure enough, true to her word, Sharpay brought upon a scandal on herself on Thursday, two days after she had promised Gabriella she would. (She had been absent on Wednesday…she claimed to Gabriella that she had been mulling over her plan.) And in Gabriella's opinion, it was much more than she had needed to. But, Gabriella was satisfied besides.

"Did you hear?"

"Sharpay Evans has _AIDS_! She lied to this college guy and said she was in college and they fucked and he _gave it to her_!"

And when the school nurse insisted she were checked, Sharpay realized she was trapped and had to confess that she had fabricated the entire story just for the sole purpose of gaining attention from her peers. That honest admission only catapulted her to the vice principal's office for "inventing such an unnecessary tale on a serious matter," which resulted in Vice Principal Matsui ordering her parents down for a meeting to "share a little talk." Sharpay, for the first time in her life, was grounded. She wasn't allowed to drive her shocking pink, initialed convertible for a whole week. So she paid Ryan to drive for her. And just to spice up the entertainment, she made him wear a matching hot pink top hat with fake craft feathers sticking out awkwardly on all sides. It was all in good fun though. At least for Sharpay.

On the following day, Friday, the swarming halls of East High were frantically buzzing about how the Ice Queen was starved for attention, so hopeless that she had devised this whole ludicrous story. So either way, the false account Sharpay had framed still made her the core of gossip.

"Hey, baby," Troy murmured seductively into his girlfriend's ear, yanking Gabriella out of her thoughts. She just couldn't stop thinking about what Elizabeth had said those few days ago. Her words were roughly branded in her mind, and she wouldn't stop reverting to them. Were they right, or were they wrong? Her feeling were so crisscrossed that she had no idea where to even start. She knew she had to come to a conclusion, and quickly. She seemed to be waiting around for answer, clueless.

"Hey," she responded back somewhat vaguely, still in a trance and quite sleepy from the evening before. Besides the quick sex session they had partaken inside an empty classroom the previous day, he had also crept into her room late that night for another one, famished of her love. And after he had scampered home, quickly, before his father would discover his absence, Gabriella had reclined peacefully on her bed and couldn't seem to glide off to sleep. She felt oddly full, imprisoning an overwhelming amount of something. She wasn't sure what it was exactly though—she guessed it were confusion. She figured she was too consumed and congested by her misdirection. Her disordered life had never seemed so real as it did then.

"Are you okay?" he whispered gently in her ear, his tone suddenly morphing from purposefully sexy to unknowingly tender. His steamy breath tickled her skin, making chilly shivers rush down her spine.

"Fine," she replied dimly, still slightly possessed. His extreme closeness made her mind fog. It was like suddenly there were no rational thoughts floating in her mind. Just him. All she could see and feel and smell was him, and she adored every moment of it. Her mocha eyes fluttered close, and she nervously sucked in a deep, haggard breath. Troy's face fell immediately, receiving the obvious vibe of her uneasiness.

"What is it, baby? Please tell me," he cooed softly against her silky cheek, pressing a kiss to the first patch of flesh his lips could find. Gabriella didn't hesitate any longer, practically collapsing against his built chest. Troy was surprised when she dropped her full weight on him, his muscular arms steadying her unbalanced shape. "What?" he questioned earnestly, his low voice faint but loving all the same. "I thought we were telling each other everything."

Gabriella knew it was bad for her to be such a baby to him, but she didn't care at that moment. She just gave in. Elizabeth was right. She was weak.

Her timid answer came out in a barely incoherent mumble. She shamefully lowered her fogged eyes, not daring to make eye contact with her boyfriend. Troy's secure grip around her waist tightened stiffly. "Do you know Mike Sanyor?"

Troy's attractive face instantaneously hardened at the wicked name. He seemed to instinctively know where this was going, without even knowing exactly what was wrong. "Yes," he managed to spit out.

"Sharpay told me that he likes me." Gabriella stated this very quickly and nervously. She had put it off for days, but now she would tell him the truth that had been bugging her for so long. "I, um, caught him staring at me during gym. I never really took notice of it before."

Troy grew incredibly rigid. "I'll handle him for you," he replied quietly. His pace quickened and strengthened as he boldly continued. "After school—"

She wasn't sure what it was.

But all of a sudden, she realized that Elizabeth was right.

And as quickly as she realized, she changed, completely, into a person she didn't know from where they came. All she knew what that suddenly she was being controlled by someone that wasn't her.

"—No, Troy," Gabriella had interjected crisply, pulling away from his caring embrace and looking him straightforwardly in the eye. Her firm stare was unyielding and dark. Troy was taken wildly aback at this unexpected, out-of-character behavior. "Don't interfere, okay? I only said that because I wanted to be honest. But I don't want to make trouble. That is that last thing I need right now."

Troy felt strangely exasperated. How could she be acting so stupid? Mike was dangerous, and he could seriously hurt her. How could Gabriella not let him defend her? Just because she was trying to put up this whole brave act? "Gabriella, Mike is dangerous," he rebutted defiantly. "It's not something you can just brush away like it's not a big deal. Because it is, and you need to sort this out now. And if you're not going to intrude and defend yourself, than I guess I will have to." Troy's voice elevated uncontrollably at the end, the impertinence augmenting tremendously. He swallowed forcibly, his cyan eyes feeling vexingly dry.

"It's my life, Troy," Gabriella replied back with surprising fierceness, her chocolate eyes misting over and going concrete. "I can do what I want. You can't control me, okay? And I say no. You cannot interfere if I don't want you to, Troy. Especially if I specifically demand you not to. So don't think about it."

Swiftly, she swiveled on the heel of her foot and strolled punctually down the hallway, fast. Her strides were extended and hasty, and she had to concentrate on not glancing behind her to see if he was following her. Troy leapt after her, not caring that that was what she had craved for, carelessly pushing his way through the dense swarm of people and taking grip of her upper arm. He had to tug it for her to stop walking.

"_What_? Troy, please I don't need any—"

"Just shut up. Please," he cut in hurriedly. Gabriella's jaw dropped at his disruptive insolence, but he began to speak again before she could splutter a single rebellious word. The bold dominance to his voice was still very much present, frightening Gabriella some, though she would never admit it. He spoke loudly and quickly, not nervously; just very speedily and choppily, as if to prove his point further. "I just want you to be safe. That's all I want. I will go to any lengths to get what I want. You know me."

Could she do this? Could she really shove Troy away like that?

Inside, it truthfully pained Gabriella to see her boyfriend like this, so hurt because of her actions. Because it was her fault. She was reluctant about continuing the tougher behavior, but on the other side she was determined to get her point across. Either way, she was just so…confused.

"You need to know how to trust me, Troy," Gabriella croaked weakly with hurt evidently written in her cracking voice. Troy was surprised that she chose to go with the pathetic and powerless act after she'd just erupted before. But as she proceeded, he wasn't sure it was really an act. She seemed genuinely helpless; and unveiling herself was the first thing she had done because that was the first thing she knew how to do impulsively. "You need to know that I can defend myself sometimes too."

Troy sighed, combing his fingers tensely through the sandy strands of his shaggy hair and anxiously kneading the back of his neck as he retorted more coolly. "I know, Gabriella. But I just…I'd rather know that you're completely safe if I do it—"

"What are you saying?" Her delicate voice, quivering and tremulous, was barely audible; her tone suggesting she were greatly offended. "Are you saying that I…" She paused when her voice helplessly broke. "That you don't think I can shoo Mike away or defend myself from him? That you would do a better job? That—"

"No, I was just—" Troy blubbered maladroitly, his awkward gaze reverting down to his sneakers.

"—_FUCK_, Troy! Just _LET ME TALK _FOR ONCE!"

Gabriella's earsplitting outburst caused many alarmed, curious heads to turn, and it was not very long before a snooping crowd had formed around the quarrelling couple. Neither of them really realized. Troy shrunk back at his girlfriend's unexpected explosion after seeing her in such a vulnerable state, biting down on his lip hard. Was she just PMSing?

"I can defend myself, Troy," Gabriella whispered quietly, staring directly into his disgraced, cerulean eyes. "I know myself. I am just getting tired of you shielding me for everything. I want you to know that I know what I am capable of doing many things that you do for me, and I know what I'm doing. I'm not stupid; I know that if I can't handle it, I will go to you. But if I can, I want to deal with it in the way that I want. And in this case, I am doing this alone. I can figure it out by myself. Please just let me handle my own situations for now. I'm not disabled and I just need to test my limits."

That was exactly what he was afraid of.

Troy, somewhere deep inside of him, knew that one day Gabriella was going to snap. But he would have never guessed now.

Troy sighed again, ready to spit back when the bell pierced through the cluttered school.

Without connecting their eyes, Gabriella mumbled quickly, "I'll see you later," whirling around, and before Troy knew it, she had disappeared into the thick throng of students.

* * *

**A/N: I don't want to seem like the author that is dying for reviews, but I haven't been receiving as many as I used to. I'm just curious as to why. Has it been really boring? Slow? Please let me know; you are all the readers and I want to hear your ideas and thoughts. This is for you, so don't be hesitant to ask or comment. :) Thank you. **


	18. Thank the Lord for Locker Check Day

****

A/N: Busy busy busy busy. That's what I am and I apologize for lateness. :( I know y'all hate me right now but if it makes you feel any better, I've been writing other stuff. I have all this other work that I'm really passionate about and I have been working on them like crazy, and my focus on this story kind of disappeared. So I am sorry, but I hope I can make it up to you. I promise, by February, I should be posting much more often. :)

Just wanted to add: I posted a new story called Succumb. It's not going to be long...maybe three, four chapters at this rate? Anyway, I worked my ass off, so please, at least take the brief second to skim it. :D I would be more than grateful if you did so.

**Disclaimer: I do not own Disney or High School Musical, or anything affiliated with either one. I don't own Twister either.**

* * *

Gabriella detested this.

Regretting. Feeling so guilty like this.

She knew it had been bad to bash out on Troy so harshly like that, after he hadn't even deserved it, but she had just felt that impulsive urge to prove her point. Permanently. But she had overdone it, verbally slapping him in the face. And now she couldn't bare herself, so heavily salted with guilt. She didn't have to so brutally tear away from Troy to support herself, and she knew that, somewhere deep down inside her. Why had she acted so suddenly? Why had she been so stupid?

She sighed desolately as her dulled eyes stole a spiteful glance at her phone, looking awfully lonely on her snow-painted desk. _Just do it_, a snappy tone in her head pressed forcefully. _Now_. Her tiny hands involuntarily dashed to the abandoned phone, Gabriella remotely surprised at her sudden action. With her white fingers irregularly trembling in a sort of eccentric vibration, she instantly dialed the memorized number before she could back out.

There was an unidentifiable ruffling on the other end before a mournful, gloomy voice was heard.

"Gabriella," he whispered sorrowfully, his low voice unrecognizably empty and weighted with unbearable despondency. The somber notes swimming in his voice spelled out how forlorn he was for her, the intolerable longing for her unable to be any more evident. Gabriella's heart ached compassionately with unflinching lament and sank so far down she was sure it was just going to drop out of her system.

"Yeah," she choked out hoarsely. Her throat was suddenly parched and she found it very difficult to talk. "It's good to know you know my name."

"Gabriella," Troy repeated lamely, weakly, defenselessly—he seemed to be surrendering, Gabriella realized with widened eyes and a bit of alarm. "I'm sorry—"

"—No, I'm sorry," Gabriella interjected with a despairing sigh. "I didn't mean it like that—I just want to be a bit more independent. But I hope you didn't think that I wanted to break up with you—oh God, I don't even remember what was going on in my head…"

"It's fine, Gabi," Troy whispered calmly. "I know. How about we just have a movie night?"

Gabriella grinned delightedly. "Perfect. My house, at nine?"

"Sounds great."

"Okay. I'll see you then. Bye."

"Bye, Gabi."

Pause.

"I love you."

"I love you too, baby." Gabriella hung up, breathing hard suddenly.

It was going to be a long day. Thank God it was Friday.

* * *

Gym class intimidated her greatly now.

The way Mike would glare darkly at her, as if he could clearly see through her gym uniform.

Her natural paranoia kicked in instantaneously; she inched away from him on the bleachers and sat next to Kelsi.

"The perv keeps staring at me," Gabriella said quickly, conscious as she crumpled up somewhat and purposefully angled her body toward her friend's and away from Mike's. "He won't stop looking…"

"Just ignore him," Kelsi advised with a shrug. "When he sees that you're not interested, he'll get bored and stop."

"But it's been like this all week," Gabriella protested somberly. Her forehead creased in fearful worry. Her suspicion only furthered with each tense day. "I just can't stop…thinking that he'll like, snatch me and shove me into a closet and force me."

"Troy will save you," Kelsi reassured her softly, her musical voice comfortingly smooth, rolling melodiously off her tongue with her usual, particularly charming syrupy chime.

Gabriella sighed hopelessly, impatience edging into her abrupt, fidgety manner. "Maybe I don't want Troy to save me," Gabriella muttered, her tone low. "Maybe he's rescued me from danger enough times. Maybe I need to stand up for myself."

"That's true, too." Kelsi nodded vigorously to demonstrate that she agreed, not daring to interfere with Gabriella's adamant, unbending opinions at a temperamental, unstable time like this. She was suddenly so different; so oddly independent. Gabriella _wanted _to be independent but she was much too apprehensive, without wanting to admit it. She obtained no knowledge of what lay ahead for her, the knowledge she acquired raw with mostly inferred information. Otherwise, she was wholly troubled and mind-crossed and clueless. Kelsi felt sorry for her, but she had no idea what to do but gently nudge her in the right direction and pray she found her way. Yet, she knew that Mike was not the man to deal with on her own. After Troy salvaged her from his greedy, ruthless hands, _then _Gabriella would begin her spiked journey on the elongated, unpaved road to established independency.

"I want to be independent," Gabriella said firmly. "I want to do things for myself. Not have other people do it for me."

"Okay," Kelsi replied in understanding. "I get that. But after Mike is out of the way. He's bigger trouble than you could imagine—"

"—_What_?" Gabriella blurted callously, her scarred heart suddenly freezing, her face hardening into stone. "Like I haven't trampled into enough trouble? Like my father's surprise exit, and my parent's costly divorce? Like falling, head first, hard as concrete into lustful, passionate first love with a jock kid who had his _own_ problematic dilemmas to deal with? Like how Troy then left me and I had to cry alone? And then my mother's ridiculous engagement right after _all of that_? And then moving here, and starting a _whole new school_? With a whole new batch of fresh faces? For the millionth fucking time? And then my mother's accidental _pregnancy_ with _his child_? And has been for three months?" Kelsi gasped suddenly in shock, her hands slapping to her gaping mouth. Word had not yet traveled how Maria was pregnant. "IS THAT _NOT ENOUGH_?!"

Gabriella was breathing violently, panting as her chest heaved unevenly up and down.

She could feel Mike's unsympathetic, demon eyes boring hard into her.

Gabriella stifled a delirious scream in the cuff of her arm as she began to quietly sob, her butt sliding on the cool metal of the bleachers and causing her to recoil onto the one behind it, which was slightly lower. Kelsi was flustered at the entire uncharacteristic scene her friend had created, tentatively rubbing the distressed beauty's back as she privately wept.

"Excuse me," Gabriella whispered hollowly. "I need to go to the bathroom."

She slowly stood and picked her way through the startled clumps of students as they emerged from the locker rooms.

She gasped in alarm as she felt an icy, stiff hand clamp around her petite neck and squeeze tightly, yanking her into the men's locker room in one brisk movement.

"Mike, I didn't—"

"_Shh_."

Rough lips forcefully pressed to her neck and licked at her nose and smushed up against her soft cheek; Gabriella's breathing hitched in panic, her mind reeling with escape plans at once. Mike slammed her unfeelingly against the row of lockers, pinning her there and trailing his coarse tongue slowly down the side of her exposed neck. His huge fingers knotted messily in her silky hair, yanking her head to one side for better access.

"Mike," Gabriella panted desperately, terror obvious and quivering in her voice. Her heart would not stop hammering in her chest. "Mike, if you know what's best for you—"

He raised his hand to slap her across her cheek.

But he didn't.

"_You _don't even know what's best for you," he chuckled malignantly, rolling his graphite-shaded eyes as his hand encircled around her neck. He squeezed and Gabriella gaped for air.

"Mike—I w—"

"I heard about how you were _sure _you could stand up to me _alone _and blah blah blah…" Mike found this amusing. "And my little cutsie Troy boy is trying so hard to defend you…and you won't let him…and I'm just like, Wow, this just got so much _funner_." He snickered viciously to himself.

"Funner is not even a word—"

He smacked her heartlessly, not hesitating even for a split second. Her cheek stung and flooded with red, her eyes closing in pain.

"Get used to it, whore."

"Can you just do what you want with me and then set me free? I need an A in this class…I've already forgotten my uniform twice…" Gabriella **maundered** coolly. _Act like nothing's wrong…act like nothing's wrong…stay calm…collect your thoughts…recompose….clear your mind…then think rationally…then plan the escape…._

"Listen, bitch," Mike hissed ferociously, his sinister, chiseled face a centimeter away from hers. Gabriella bit her tongue, her brown eyes full with fright. "Listen. Closely. I'm not going to do anything with you today. It's locker check day. So you've lucked out." He paused, the calloused pad of his thick finger tracing the outline of Gabriella's jaw. "If you're smart enough, you won't tell anyone about this." He smirked menacingly.

"I'm not that smart," Gabriella spluttered weakly.

"Just shut the fuck up, okay, angel? Just don't speak of this. To anyone. Once I'm done with you, you'll never have to speak to me again, okay?" He spat nastily, his coal-resembling eyes narrowing and blazing furiously with fierceness.

Gabriella nodded feebly. Her perfect face was growing pale under his death grasp, his broad fingers only tightening more.

"Listen," Mike continued in a steadier manner. "You look like a good fuck…a good virgin…"

"I'm not a virgin," Gabriella blurted suddenly. _Oh, damnit. _

Mike mouth twisted as if he tasted something awfully bitter, cocking his head to one side. "You're not lying, are you?"

Gabriella stiffly shook her head no in response.

"No…sir."

Mike sighed resignedly. "Just…just get out my fucking sight."

His brawny arms dropped to his sides limply, and he tiredly shrunk onto the bench behind him, his shadowed face falling into his hands. Gabriella coughed the second his hands left her neck, gasping urgently for oxygen and scrambling frantically out the door. She made sure to make sure that no one was watching her exit the men's locker room.

* * *

"What do you want to watch…?" Gabriella mumbled absentmindedly, her voice rising vaguely at the end in a question, her mind absorbed into the various film titles. She bit her lip as she attentively surveyed the movies lying beside her on the couch, selecting a particular favorite of hers that she knew Troy liked too. "Ooh, how about The Bourne Ultimatum?"

"Sure," Troy shrugged nonchalantly, slouching on the sofa next to her. His arm reflexively wrapped around her shoulder, hugging her tight for a quick moment before she jumped up to pop in the DVD.

"Would you like popcorn?" Gabriella offered benignly.

"Nah, it's okay, Gabi. I'm fine. You don't have to play host." Troy waved his hand as if assuring her not to worry. He nodded her back over. "Come on, babe, you're just standing there." He smiled as he admired her, how she was so shyly standing in front of the television. Gabriella bashfully walked back, seating herself carefully in his spacious lap. "Has it really been that long?" he whispered teasingly in her ear. "I forgot how shy you really were…because you're never shy around me…right?"

Gabriella shrugged indifferently, warm and comfortable in his arms.

The movie reeled to the start. Both knew the film by heart; neither was exactly watching. They both impassively stared at the TV screen, not really taking in any information as images of Matt Damon outrunning the Tangier police flashed on the screen.

Gabriella sighed tiredly without realizing it. "Are you sure you don't want anything?"

"Positive, Gabi." She felt this indescribable, almost nostalgic ache pound through her chest, not realizing before how much she had missed his nickname for her. He smiled at her and rubbed his nose endearingly against hers, feeling her melt into his comforting embrace. "You want to do something else?"

"I'm a little too tired for sex at the moment, Wildcat," Gabriella murmured wearily. She gingerly laid her head on his chest directly under his neck, the perfect resting spot.

"I don't mean sex," Troy explained unhurriedly as he played with her tiny fingers. "I mean, something else. Whatever you want to do. Any interesting ideas spurting out of that extremely intelligent brain of yours, Ms. Montez?" He could not resist the urge to peck her a kiss. "Or even uninteresting ideas?"

"_Well_," Gabriella giggled quietly, her familiar warm eyes glistening marvelously. "What about…board games, or something like that?"

"Do you own Twister?"

Gabriella's mouth slyly curved upwards into a knowing smile.

"Mr. Bolton, I don't want to know what's racing through your mind right now."

"I don't want you to know," he grinned boyishly.

Gabriella rolled her eyes with a smile, and stood to retrieve the Twister. Troy pushed the coffee table to the wall, clearing out the space in front of the couch. Gabriella neatly spread out the mat, setting the spinner on the sofa they had just been seated on.

"Alright," Gabriella began plainly. "You spin first."  
Troy flicked the black arrow, growing a bit dizzy as he watched it form a blurry circle on the cardboard. "Left hand red," he announced when the arrow finally stopped.

Gabriella stared at the mat for a moment before deciding where to place her left hand, strategically angling it a certain way. She wasn't really bending herself yet…just squatting at the side with her hand on a red circle. Troy picked up the spinner and put it down on the floor beside him, placing his left hand in the red circle next to hers and smirking at her. Gabriella sniggered with giggles, flicking the arrow on the spinner once more. "Right leg blue." Gabriella had to put her leg over Troy's big, crouching body to reach the closest blue ring. Troy laughed as he tried to extend his leg backwards, accidentally knocking his calf against Gabriella's ankle and causing her to buckle down on top of Troy.

"Troy!" Gabriella yelped at she clawed at his back. She ending up sliding down his back and falling in a complicated heap under and behind him. Troy chuckled as he helped her out of her tangled position, both laughing loudly. "How did I know you were going to pull something like that?"

"Because you know me," Troy winked, pressing his lips confidently to hers. "Hey, do you know if I can sleep over? Sex or no sex," he chuckled.

"I don't know," Gabriella sighed with a shrug. "And I thought you weren't allowed to be here…you know, your father…? And I wouldn't want you to lie to him or anything."

"I wouldn't be lying," Troy vowed as he plopped down on the sofa, Gabriella standing worriedly in front of him, hands rubbing nervously together and creating a thick friction. "I would tell him I'm sleeping over at Eric's house. This is Eric's house. And also happens to be yours, but you see, he doesn't know that."

Gabriella sighed restlessly again. "Yeah, but…seriously Troy, I don't want to take any chances. I'm sorry, babe, but I think it's best if you don't sleep over."

"I'm sorry, it's just that…Sage is just a total bitch and I just want to be away from her as much as possible. The way she so fakely fawns all over my dad, while my dad is really fawning all over her. And they just fuck around all day, and it's just beyond disgusting. They just stay in my dad's bedroom, drinking alcohol and fucking like they do…" Troy groaned and ran his fingers through his hair. "It's just that…well, I really miss my mom."

Gabriella gently sat on his stomach, her legs straddling him, her back reclining against his propped knees. She leaned in a tenderly stroked his face, Troy reveling under her marvelous touch. "I miss my dad, too," Gabriella whispered lowly. "I just…you know, it's like that empty spot, right?"

Troy delicately closed the electric blue eyes Gabriella treasured so dearly and nodded, his fingers absentmindedly rising to gently knead his girlfriend's chilly hand. "Uh huh," he murmured, just barely coherent. Gabriella absorbedly tidied his ruffled hair, smoothing his sandy strands out warmly with her dexterous fingers. "Henry's coming home for Thanksgiving break," Troy added, his eyes still shut. Gabriella's demeanor mollified in lament.  
"Home as in San Diego, or home as in Albuquerque?" Gabriella asked in a small voice, her large mocha eyes intent on her loved one.

"Home as Albuquerque," Troy answered quietly. "I just don't know what he'll think of Dad. He's been drinking a lot lately, and I…well, it scares me. He scares me."

Gabriella sighed. "Preppy scares me. The way he dresses and acts."

Troy chuckled with a shake of his head and tapped her nose lightly with his index finger. Gabriella mutely situated herself so she was stretched out comfortably on top of him, snuggling into his built figure and pulling up a heavy, cozy blanket from the floor over their bodies. Gabriella's eyes drooped immediately, flurrying close. Troy reflexively began threading his fingers through her beautiful brown coils, so silky through his fingers.

He had really missed this.

And it had only been a matter of days. Maybe a week?

"Again, I'm really sorry," Gabriella brought up the topic again slowly. "I just…wasn't thinking straight."

"So as you said before," Troy commented gently, his fingers tracing the delicately carved contours of her saintly face. "Let's just put it behind us."

"Right," Gabriella agreed. "Just…behind us…"

She felt so calm like that with Troy, in that position. They listened to their synchronized heart beats, so riveting and so tranquil at the same time.

It was not very long until they drifted off to a relaxed sleep.

* * *

"I'll see you later, dude," Chad waved from inside his car.

Fuck Elizabeth for taking the car and leaving Chad to drive Eric home.

"Thanks for driving me, man," Eric thanked benignly. "Yeah, I don't know where Elizabeth is…probably at Jameson's party that I know is tonight…. Are you driving Tay home, or are you taking her?"  
"Taking her," Chad winked suggestively, flinging a look over towards Taylor, whom was peacefully slumbering in the backseat.

"Have fun," Eric laughed, running his hands through his short, curly black hair. "Alright, see you later."

He jogged up the steps to the front door, Chad reversing out of the Wheaton's driveway and rumbling back down the sleepy road. Eric fiddled with his keys and sighed as he pushed the door open, the warmer atmosphere of the familiar house almost comforting.

But it was all ruptured by…what was that…screaming?

Indeed it was. Eric anxiously slammed the door shut behind him, bounding into the kitchen where the noises were obviously coming from.

Maria and Phillip were standing there, both fiercely red-faced and fuming. They hardly seemed to notice the intruder's presence.

"THAT IS NOT MY FAULT, DO YOU HEAR, YOU DEAF WOMAN?! I TOLD YOU! I HAVE ABSOLUTELY NO IDEA HOW MY SOCK LANDED IN YOUR UNDERWEAR DRAWER!" Mr. Wheaton was more than enraged. Eric backed away instinctively, never seeing his father so angry. Sure, Charity and Phillip had fought in the last stages of their pathetic, failed marriage, but they didn't scream—their fights were more like intense arguments. But these fights…they were just ridiculous. "WOULD YOU LIKE ME TO SPEAK TO CARINA?!?!?! BECAUSE I COULD SPEAK TO HER IF YOU WOULD LIKE!" Phillip cracked his knuckles in irritation, panting out of hollering so hard and loud.

"I DON'T FUCKING KNOW, YOU MORON! HOW AM I SUPPOSED TO FUCKING KNOW?!?! ALL I KNOW IS THAT I FOUND YOUR SOCK IN MY UNDERWEAR DRAWER JUST NOW! _NOT VERY PLEASANT, IF YOU ASK ME!_" Maria seethed lividly, her slender arms crossing over her ribcage, just above the tiny bump that was the baby.

Eric hastily stepped in. "Dad, calm down! It's just hormones! You two need to stop this instant!" Eric desperately tried to break them apart, but they only continued to charge at each other furiously. "You're acting like children!"

"WELL, THAT'S WHAT HE IS! HE'S AN IRRESPONSIBLE LITTLE CHILD WHO NEEDS TO BE TAUGHT A FUCKING LESSON!" Maria had been unable to contain herself any longer. Her brown eyes were bloodshot and icy, her face flushed.

Soon they were throwing things.

Eric had no idea what to do. His heart was pounding madly, his forehead aching at all the commotion and noise.

"Dad, _stop it_! Maria's your fiancée…you love her, you love her dearly, you can't do this—what the _fuck _are you fucking doing, you're out of your mind—" Eric spluttered frantically, his chest heaving up and down. He ducked as Phillip recklessly lobbed a ceramic salad bowl at Maria, yanking Maria down with him. The painted bowl smashed against the wall behind them, the deafening crash waking Troy and Gabriella below.

"What the hell was that?" Gabriella shot up, sleepy but her eyes still wide.

"Hmm…what?" Troy murmured wearily, his eyes half-closed and his fingers absentmindedly drawing lazy circles on his girlfriend's forearm.

"That…that crashing," Gabriella inquired, her eyebrows narrowing. "Where did that come from? Or is that just my imagination? Am I dreaming or something?" Gabriella sighed tiredly, not rebelling when Troy gently pulled her back into his warm embrace, his sturdy arms enveloping her lovingly.

"Probably, babe," Troy peppered her a chaste kiss to her forehead. "Just sleep…"

Gabriella reluctantly fluttered her eyes close, settling into the basketball captain's comfortable form, splayed down the length of the sofa.

"Troy?" Gabriella whispered concernedly. "Did you hear anything?"

But he had already fallen asleep again.

Gabriella sighed despairingly once more and curled her arm affectionately around his waist, feeling the rhythmic pulse of his heart against her cheek.

But there was screaming. It was faint, but Gabriella could hear it.

Gabriella bulleted up again. "Troy," she anxiously tapped his arm. "Troy, I really think something is wrong."

Another loud crash.

Gabriella yelped, gripping Troy's muscular upper arm in worry.

"What Gabi?" Troy groaned under layers of drowsiness, unwillingly squinting his brilliant blue eyes open.

"I heard another crash…" Gabriella mumbled, her forehead scrunching adorably. "I'm sorry, but I just need to make sure that everyone is okay—"

"YOU _ASSHOLE_! THAT WAS MY GRANDMOTHER GERALDINE'S FAVORITE VASE!"

"NOT ANYMORE IT FUCKING ISN'T!"

"Oh no…oh no, oh no, oh no…" Gabriella muttered to herself as she thoughtlessly leapt up from the sofa. "No no no no no…"

"What babe?" Troy asked cluelessly, rubbing the sleep out of his magnificent sapphire eyes and sitting upright on the couch.

"My mother and Preppy have gone mad…absolutely mad…" Gabriella straightened out her clothes and rapidly tidied her disheveled hair before scuttling up the steps impatiently.

The scene was horrific in that stunning kitchen of theirs. Eric was hopelessly nursing a bloody, limp arm in one corner, while Phillip and Maria were really going at it.

"I TOLD YOU SPECIFICALLY NOT TO!"

"BUT I WANTED TO!"

"THAT DOES NOT MEAN YOU FUCKING DO! HAVE YOU EVER FUCKING HEARD OF RESPECT?!"

"MOM! PHILLIP! PLEASE CALM DOWN!" Gabriella wrestled them apart somehow, but they only magnetized back together, clawing at each other. Gabriella gaped as she watched them hysterically hurl things at each other; anything that was in the room…the closest things. She was sure she was going to be next. She wallowed helplessly by Eric.

He gulped. "They're nuts."

Gabriella gingerly pulled Eric out of the kitchen and onto the grand staircase just behind it, knowing their company would make no difference.

"Are you okay?" Gabriella asked softly to the senior she had grown so fond of. "Is it broken do you think?"  
"No…my skin just is a bit ripped up," Eric responded levelly.

Gabriella sighed, and kneaded her temples in frustration. "What time is it?"

"It's around one in the morning."

Gabriella moaned. "Seriously? They just _had_ to pick…" She faded off. "I'm going back to bed," Gabriella started, "after I clean you up in the bathroom—"

"—It's fine," Eric covered quietly. "Go back to sleep. I can do it myself."

"Are you sure?" Gabriella bit her lip.

"Positive. Go on…I promise." Eric smiled reassuringly.

Gabriella sighed and reluctantly stepped down the stairs.

"Hey, where're you going?" Eric questioned as he noticed she was not going _up _the stairs.

"Troy's over…we accidentally fell asleep downstairs and…I'm just too tired to drag him upstairs or kick him out or anything…so I'll just sleep downstairs," Gabriella explained in a tired ramble. She ran her small fingers through her knotted tendrils.

"Whatever suits you," Eric shrugged. He seemed unbothered that Troy was sleeping over. "Good night."

"Night, Eric," Gabriella smiled tiredly, scampering down the steps and back to Troy. She snuggled up with him again, and it was only a matter of seconds until she glided off to sleep.


	19. Three Weeks Later

****

A/N: I know this is late! Trust me, I know. I hope this will compensate! I know this doesn't have much Troyella interaction, but there are other things that need to be covered too.

**Disclaimer: I do not own Disney or High School Musical, or anything affiliated with either one. **

* * *

Coach Bolton was not in his best mood.

His low voice boomed throughout the East High gymnasium, orders thundering from his mouth.

"STOP RUNNING! YOU CAN TAKE A FIVE-MINUTE BREAK! NOT LIKE YOU EARNED IT!" He heatedly shouted to the varsity basketball team. They were racing around the gym and sweating buckets; literally dripping perspiration like ongoing rain. The nauseating odor in the gymnasium was so unusually horrible that it made them all lightheaded. "I need to get some more basketballs from the storage closet," the coach muttered. "Green, you're in charge." And on that note, he briskly fled the gymnasium. Troy knew, in the back of his mind, that he was seeking some comfort in the alcohol he clandestinely stored in his office.

Jason wiped his sticky brow on his soaked jersey, groaning out in ache. Every part of his body was sore like it had never been before. He groggily leaned his exhausted body backwards to Zeke, who nearly toppled over as a consequence.

"Dude, I think I'm going to faint," Zeke grunted gutturally, just barely coherent. His knees were wobbly with weakness and fatigue. "It's blacking out…my vision is blacking out!" He covered his already closed eyes.

Chad unearthed some strength to slap Zeke sympathetically on the shoulder. He also almost knocked an unstable Zeke to the ground again. "Stop overreacting. You're acting like fucking sissy." Chad stifled his own groans of complaint and gestured to Troy, who was crouched over and trying to breathe correctly. "Isn't he, Troy?"

"Sure," Troy managed to pant out. He clumsily stumbled over to a low bleacher-like bench, collapsing onto it. His crew followed him, reflexively clustering around him.

"Dude, when has your dad been _this _harsh?" Chad snapped, dropping to sit down next to the basketball star.

Troy didn't answer, running his hands shakily through his drenched chestnut hair, which had separated into strands. He took the other teammates by surprise when he furiously tore off his jersey, haphazardly flinging it behind the bench with a livid, crimson face.

"Is he drinking too much booze again?" Jason prodded casually.

His face was much too close to Troy's, and he was quickly growing claustrophobic.

"Dude, he's not getting enough from Sage, right?" Zeke guessed pressingly.

There was something building in Troy's chest. He wasn't sure what it was, but it was bloating and engorging, and he knew his chest would simply burst soon. "Yeah," Troy huffed. "He's not."

It was true. Over the past two and three weeks, Sage had made less frequent visits. Jack had made less frequent visits to her place. And although Troy was silently triumphantly cheering inside, it also frightened him. His father had been crazier and wilder than he had been before. Now there was this mad bull hidden inside of him, and it took charge whenever his platinum blonde Sage was not around. Troy had a hunch that Sage was seeing someone else; he had heard her cooing to someone on the phone, endearingly calling him "baby." Troy had been able to hear the voice on the other side—not too distinctly, but enough to tell it was a man's voice. As a result of Sage's distance (in more than one way), Jack himself had become more distant. He began to drink more. He would sneak out and riskily gamble at night. He would break things out of anger. And poor Troy was scared out of his mind. Sometimes, during the bleak blackness of the night, Troy would scamper over to the Wheatons' mansion and creep up Gabriella's balcony. She always warmly welcomed him with her arms thrown wide open. No matter what time of the day or night.

"Well, tell him to get more," Chad shrugged dispassionately, his voice still strained and drained.

"Speaking of getting some, are you getting some from Gabriella?" Zeke pried nosily.

All of them—they were in his face! When would these people learn to back away and give him space?

Troy was still panting, although not entirely from the tough workout they had just wrestled.

"Yeah," Troy responded halfheartedly. He took a swig of his nearly empty water bottle.

Their sex was becoming more sporadic as well, but Troy wasn't concerned. Gabriella was so stressed out about her mother, her mother's unborn baby, and her mother's crumbling relationship with Mr. Wheaton. She wasn't in the right mind to have some good sex. Their sex was mostly spur of the moment; whatever scrap of time they had that wasn't filled with Gabriella's sobbing and complaining. Troy did what he had always done—he soothed her reassuringly like every good boyfriend. What else could he do? He never spoke of his own family troubles, and danced around the truth even if he were asked. To say he was humiliated and ashamed by his family life was a grand understatement.

"TEAM! BACK ON THE COURT!"

They all groaned in unison before jogging back onto the court, its spotless surface glistening almost mockingly at them.

Only one more excruciating hour of practice to go.

In the locker room after practice, the lazy chatter rippled throughout the showers and lockers as usual. Troy made sure he was the last person out. He always tried to take as long as possible, for his father would stay after practice sometimes and make notes in his office. Sometimes Troy would encounter him accidentally, or vice versa, and he tried to avoid those interactions—especially in front of mixed company. His meddlesome teammates probed him with more personal questions, and Troy only tried his best to shrug them off. He was relieved when the locker room finally pulsed with prized silence, and he filed away his things in his locker in peace.

But the peace was short-lived.

Latishia Yu cornered him just as he emerged from the locker room. Her long eyelashes batted suggestively at him, and he almost gagged.

"Y-Yes?" he stammered fuzzily, as if he were a waiter asking, _How may I help you? _

"You look really hot in that shirt," Latishia commented casually. She stuck out a manicured finger, pointing it at Troy's shirt. It was a simple green polo.

"Thanks," Troy hoarsely responded. He took a step to his left, but Latishia quickly blocked him.

"Where is it from? Like, where did you get it?" She was trying to pretend like she was interested.

"Abercrombie and Fitch," Troy spluttered back in a gravelly tone. He made another move to leave, but Latishia refused for that to happen.

"Nice," Latishia replied coolly. "Do you think that shirt would look good on me?"

"What?"

"Do you think your shirt would look good on me?" Latishia repeated composedly. She seemed totally unfazed for once. She calmly brushed away a strand of her dark hair, her deep hazel eyes spiraling.

"It's a men's shirt," Troy burbled perplexedly. "Excuse me…"

But she just wouldn't let him move.

"You know what?" Latishia began, taking a few steps forward.

Air…air…he needed to breathe!

"Wh-What?"

He was now encaged in Latishia's slim arms against the lockers. Latishia nudged his shoulder, and his back clashed with the cool metal. It was embarrassing that Latishia was looking down on him. She was so tall.

"We should go have a quickie in the closet," Latishia decided bluntly. She smirked at him.

Horror flooded Troy's face, but before he could even react, Latishia's fat lips had landed on his. They were nothing like Gabriella's gentle, elegant kisses; they were rapid and harsh, demanding and dominating. Troy was disgusted with himself, and tried to shove Latishia away, but she just wouldn't move. After a minute or so of hard, torturous kisses, Latishia reluctantly surrendered.

Troy had never darted away so fast in his life.

* * *

"So what names do _you_ like, _mija_?" Maria asked Gabriella, unusually benign. She was trying too hard.

Gabriella glanced up from her book on the opposite sofa. Maria was outstretched on her couch, her bare feet on one armrest and her head resting on the other, a little bump distinguishable around her middle. She maternally rested one hand on it, the other thumbing through a thick paperback of baby names.

"Anything modern and normal," Gabriella sighed in boredom before switching her attention back to her book. She flipped a page, easily engrossing herself back into the gripping novel.

"Hmm…no, no," Maria disagreed with a shake of her head. "I want a unique name…"

Oh no. No, no, no…

"…something with bang and sparkle…"

Disaster zone! Disaster!

"…something that no one will ever forget…"

"—Ma, do you hear those sirens?" Gabriella interjected briskly.

"No!" Maria jolted up in alarm, her eyes skipping around the room. "Where?"

"In my head," Gabriella calmly answered, her nose inside the book. "I mean, come on! Do you wanna give the poor kid a heart attack?"

"Well, no. But I want something memorable and interesting and unique." Maria settled back onto the couch, returning to her previous lazy position.

A rich silence filled the air, and Gabriella swore gratefully under her breath at it and began to read once more. Not too long after, Maria's voice shattered the silence.

"So, what about Mezzimela for a girl?"

"_What_?" Gabriella nearly shrieked, jerking up and dropping her book to the side. "Sounds like mozzarella!"

"Exactly! My favorite cheese!"

What was _wrong _with her?! Gabriella couldn't even believe she was related to the woman.

"Fine, fine. No Mezzimela. How about Shakimopopo for a boy?"

"Where do you even _get _these names?!" Gabriella hollered out. Her patience was notoriously short, as was her fiery temper.

"They're in here!" Maria shrugged innocently, turning back to the book.

Gabriella abruptly stood and wrenched the book from her mother's hands. "I'm sorry, but there's no way we're naming the kid something that crazy." She began to rip out the pages. "I'm sorry." She shredded a few, to Maria's sheer horror, and allowed the petrified fragments to litter the carpet.

"Fine, then," Maria stubbornly replied. She crossed her arms childishly. "What names do _you _suggest?"

"How about John or Jane?" Gabriella fumed lividly. "There's nothing wrong with those names! How did you even manage to name me something _normal_?"

"Your father picked it, sweetheart," Maria shrugged coolly. She tried to dismiss her daughter's inappropriate behavior. "He refused to name you anything else. And had you been a boy, you would have been Gabriel."

Gabriella nearly broke down at the mention of her father, but she swiftly spun away before her mother could see her tears. Gabriella snatched her novel and stormed up the stairs, angrily slamming her bedroom door shut behind her.

She picked up her phone and dialed.

"Troy?" She whimpered feebly into the receiver.

* * *

"I'm going out," Jack announced in his snarling voice, seizing his heavy coat and shrugging it on.

Troy peered up from the TV. "Okay," he croaked weakly.

"Okay," Jack nodded quickly. "Bye."

And he was gone, the screen door slapping shut behind him.

Troy hopelessly sank into the leather couch, letting it encase him completely. He flicked through the channels, bored out of his mind. He finally found a basketball game, and immersed himself in it. He just needed to forget for a moment. He needed to forget what Latishia had done. What _he _had done. What would Gabriella say? Would she leave him? Was he even going to tell her? No. He couldn't tell her. That would ruin everything. The battle inside of him was raging. The guilt he was experiencing had never been more serious in his life. His shoulders felt like they were being weighted down, and he was sluggish. He didn't want to do anything.

Hours passed, and he was slumbering on the plush sofa when the door jerked open again. In staggered his drunken father, utterly dizzy and dazed. He roughly kicked the door closed behind him, a deafening bang ensuring, and he numbly lurched forward into the kitchen. He erratically flicked on the light. The blaring TV was merely background noise now—Troy became fearfully motionless, molding into a stone statue.

He just needed to escape the scene.

Troy heard cupboards shudder as Jack violently jimmied their rusting knobs, wrenching the wooden doors open with dangerous power. He was searching for scraps of food. Troy cowered frightfully on the couch, flinching with every grunt his father emitted. The refrigerator heaved open and then slammed shut again. He heard Jack growl with satisfaction as he finally took in his precious beer, the glass clanking noisily against the marble countertop of the island. Troy could just visualize him slouched indolently against the counter, that stupid haze evident on his unshaven face, the beer clenched loosely in his hand. Troy could hear him munching on something edible.

Suddenly, the phone was ringing.

It rang and rang and rang, and just went Troy expected it to stop, Jack picked it up.

"Huh…lo?" he drawled vaguely.

"Yes, Jack," a familiar voice snapped loudly. Troy quickly identified the voice to be Sage's.

"Oh…oh S-Sage!" Jack burst out in a pitiful stutter.

"Jack," Sage began firmly.

"Oh, Sage," Jack dimly interrupted what would have been her monologue. "Come over now. I think the bastardly kid is out of the house! You can scream as loud as you want."

Troy gulped forcibly, his grave eyes blindly watering as he stared directly at the TV. He wasn't blinking. _Don't move…don't budge…_a voice was chanting in a low mutter in his mind.

"I can't. I can't see you anymore," Sage announced resolutely. Troy was surprised at how professional she was acting. "I just…I can't."

"Wuh…why?" Jack spluttered vaguely.

Sage was silent on the other line.

The beer bottle caused an earsplitting sound when it collided with the tiled floor, foamy liquid splattering its surface. Troy was perfectly rigid.

"You scare me," Sage whimpered weakly.

The line went dead.

Troy stiffened on the sofa even more, his hands scrunching into tight, nervous fists.

He heard Jack roar in animalistic way from the kitchen, his sneering voice madly rumbling throughout the house. The angry bull had been unleashed from the confines inside of him.

And all in good timing, Troy's cell phone began to ring.

Jack was fuming, his nostrils flared and his unkempt face painted red. He lumbered into the living room where Troy burrowed on the couch, his flushed forehead wrinkled. Jack stomped in front of Troy, towering over him monstrously. Troy studied his haggard features, quickly detecting insanity.

"You didn't hear that," Jack grumbled thunderously, his own fists tightening. One connected with Troy's knee, stabbing it hard. Troy only winced. "That phone call. You didn't hear that phone call. It is nonexistent. It never happened. Got it kid?" The other fist jabbed his stomach, instantaneously making Troy double over with blistering pain. He clutched his stomach, trying his hardest not to moan out.

Jack was about to retreat to his bedroom when Troy's phone began to chime again. The basketball coach punched Troy once more in the shoulder before finally receding to his room.

There had been many worse times.

Troy sat there limply grasping his bruised stomach when his cell phone began to ring again. He didn't waste any time in answering the call.

"Troy?" a memorable silky voice mumbled powerlessly.

He sighed despairingly to himself. "Gabi?" His heart melted.

"Baby, I need you," Gabriella whispered faintly on the other line. "I need you now. My mother has gone delusional. The whole world has gone delusional."

"I know, babe, I know." What else could he say? "I'll be right there, Gabi." He pushed himself off of the sofa, not bothering to grab his coat as he scuttled to his beaten truck.

"I love you," Gabriella murmured tenderly before hanging up.

"I love you, too," Troy replied with just as much affection.

Troy did what he usually did; he dashed to the Wheatons' over the speed limit, parked his car a block away, and sprinted to their house. There, he clambered up Gabriella's balcony, and she would usually be standing there idly by the window, waiting with desolate tears streaming down her angelic face.

"Oh, God," Gabriella mumbled halfheartedly as she fell against Troy's defined chest, his arms coming around her in a familiar embrace.

Troy rubbed her back and whispered sweet nothings in her ear like a good boyfriend. He dressed her in her pajamas and tucked her safely in bed like a good boyfriend. He waited until she was asleep until he left like a good boyfriend.

But this time, he felt guilt ebbed into every one of his actions. He felt somewhat awkward around her now, no matter how hard he tried to put it right. Their kisses were slightly uncomfortable, as were their brief conversations.

All because of Latishia Yu.


End file.
